Tasteless
by Droopy Breeches
Summary: A look at Lily and James’s final years in Hogwarts through journals, notes, and any other scraps of paper left behind. Starting at the end of fifth year and desperately attempting to make Lily less of a James obsessed psychopath. Give it a try.
1. Of Broom Closets and Tastelessness

**Author's Note: **The other day I was reading one of the ever so plentiful Lily/James journal fics. All Lily's journal ever seemed to mention was James: her irritation at his constant requests for dates, her disgust at all the sappy (but inevitably gorgeous) women who throw themselves at his feet, her shock at finding herself imagining the feel of his quidditch-toned abs, her worries that her grades in transfiguration would get even worse because she was too busy staring at his quidditch tossed hair. So, I said enough was enough and pulled out my handy-dandy keyboard to attempt to pen a slightly more realistic story. Thus, in her first few journal entries, Lily may not even mention James, but don't worry the pairing is Lily/James and eventually (and hopefully more realistically, they will get together).

So, I'm giving writing a shot, and if you end up liking this different take, I'll even throw a couple more chapters your way.

_Droopy Breeches_

_._

* * *

_**Tasteless**_

My Prefect Notebook:

As written on May 30th, 1976

In this notebook I shall dictate the various and sundry difficulties involved with being a prefect. Frankly, some might say that starting a Prefect Notebook in May of my fifth year, and first year as a prefect, is just a ruse to start a journal, but that is simply not the case.

This notebook is most definitely and unequivocally a prefect duties tallying roster because now who'd want to steal that? Right. No one. Whereas every girl in my dorm and one particularly irritating boy from our neighboring dorm would never stop with the thieving if they thought this was a journal . . . which it isn't . . . it's a prefect duties tallying roster. For example:

1. Supervise the _separate_ detentions of those over-affectionate third years I found in that broom closet on the fifth floor.

Note: Maybe I could convince McGonagall to let me give them lectures on romantic conduct for their detention. Not that I'm an expert, but third years? Ewwww. They shouldn't be in closets yet. These kids are thirteen and fourteen. They have stubbornly magic resistant acne, various newly swelling body parts that they SHOULDN'T know how to use yet, and all these emotions oozing from their lacking-in-deodorant bodies that when mixed with snogging could result in some severe problems. I know that I live in a more liberated age of free love, and really it's great that woman now can use birth control to be just as promiscuous as they like, but . . . Ewwwwwwwwwwww. Third years? They barely look older than second years, who barely look older than first years.

EWWWWWWWWWWWW. First years! What if there are first years snogging in broom closets because they feel that the more liberal attitudes of the late twentieth century encourage them to. Don't they know how many potions with potentially horrific side effects Filch stores in the broom closets? Some sweet little first year boy might find that the sweet (TOO Young!) first year girl he was so innocently trying to eat the face of now has blue skin, and fangs, and three arms, and weirdly non-natural swelling body parts! Also, what about those dusty rags and brooms! Over exposure to dust at a young age can lead to asthma, which can shorten your life expectancy by years, and in severe cases lead to death.

If I don't stop those horny third years they're going to give all the first years asthma, then die!

So . . . Basically, I need to talk to McGonagall.

2. Talk to head (dishy) boy Fabian Prewett about switching my patrol partner. Maybe he'll let me switch back to patrolling with Remus. After all, I was the one who requested Sev . . . no, Snape as a patrol partner in the first place. At the time Fabian thought it an excellent example of inter-house cooperation, but really, traditionally prefects from the same house patrol together. It was quite selfish of me to mix everything up.

Then again, how many times will I actually need to patrol before the end of the year. Three? Four? I can be sick that often. What I can't do is face Sev—Snape right now. I'm such a coward. I don't really want to face Remus either. So, I guess skiving off patrol is my best option for the time being. Huzzah, for Lily Evans Hogwarts's newest delinquent.

3. Propose a cease to prefect patrols at this late point in the year. After all, exams are over, the students deserve a chance to celebrate. But, all broom closets must be magically locked, we don't want the younger students celebrating too hard.

4. Ummmmmm . . . more tasteful pranking . . . yes, too many students are pulling pranks that lack taste. Namely, pranks that aim more to humiliate than amuse. Like that incident at the lake with poor Se— No. Never mind. Who really cares about pranking? It's the end of the year and celebrating students need to blow off some steam. I'd rather they spend their time pranking than canoodling within the confines of Hogwarts's filthy, filthy broom closets.

Who am I kidding? This is a journal. I just can't live without some means of venting my thoughts. My friends certainly won't do. I recall the last time I let slip how much I admired Fabian's nice firm . . . _moral character_ . . . Marlene told him I thought he had a nice arse. My friends can't seem to comprehend the fact that I might be attracted to a bloke for more than just the superficial surfacey things, as nice as Fabian's might be.

But really, despite what my friends think, I don't like Fabian in that way. We've been decent friends since meeting in Charms Club my second year. Marlene likes to say he charmed his way into my heart or that he's my Prince Charming. Really, puns were never this bad when I went to my nice Muggle primary school. But, Fabian is like a big brother to me. He's pure blood, but he can't stand all the persecution that the magical society traditionally heaps upon muggle borns. He's defended me from Slytherin gits and just regular gits. Lately, he's also been helpfully defending me from horny gits who fancy that because I'm a redhead I'm of the passionate nature and looking for someone to be passionate with . . . in the fifth floor broom closet. Yeah, that's a no. If third years shouldn't be snogging in closets than neither should I. I guess I'm just immature that way. Snogging still strikes me as a gross, icky, unpleasant thing and not the only reason school's worth attending as the many girls of the sixth year dorm always assure me.

Back to Fabian, he's a really great bloke, but not the bloke for me. His hair is almost as violently red as mine and if we were to procreate our children would inevitably be cursed with this same devilish shade and all the freckles, pale skin, and fifty percent higher chance of getting skin cancer that comes with it. Plus, if Fabian and I were to procreate we might have to kiss. I hear that procreation is hard to manage without kissing . Actually, you could do it, it would just probably be tricky. Hmmmm . . . Okay, mind out of the gutter. The point is Fabian and I are just friends and not likely to become more than that because 1. He's about to graduate. And 2. Boys are gross.

Wow, I've just spent more than an hour writing nonsense in my Prefect Notebook/ journal. I really need to be more subtle or my friends will catch on, steal this, and spread my secrets (like how I contemplated procreating with Fabian Prewett . . . oh no!) all around the school. Yeah, I know it sure sounds like I have great friends.

Love,

The Honorable Prefect,

Ms. Lily Evans

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* * *

**History of Magic**

**May 30****th**

**Dear Prongs,  
Have you ever been struck with how pointlessness of this class grows exponentially after we take our exams? I hope we didn't pass our O.W.L.s then we'll never have to sit through another Goblin Revolution again.  
Love,  
Padfoot**

**Dear Prongs,  
Why haven't you responded to my first note? Is it because you don't like me anymore? Do you not like me anymore because you met my mother last summer and you've just been struck with the possibility that I may someday become like her? Prongs, buddy, I promise to stay on the right path if you just promise to keep on loving me. So, say you still love me and show it by responding to my notes.  
Love,  
Padfoot**

**Dear Moony,  
You're sitting closer to Prongs please make him respond to my notes. I'm regressing into memories of my childhood.  
Love,  
Padfoot**

_Why do you write all your notes as formal letters? Also, I refuse to become entangled in any fight you and Prongs might be having. If he is spending his time paying attention to classes, even though they become exponentially more pointless at the end of the year, then more power to him._

**Dear Moony,  
I totally agree about the classes thing. Also, writing notes in this formal letter style is the proper way to communicate. My mother, though a hag, taught me all the proper manners of which the youth of today are so sadly bereft. Prongs and I aren't fighting. Or, at least I don't think we're fighting. Moony, can you think of anything Prongs and I might be fighting about?  
Love,  
Padfoot**

_Well, did you mock Prong's love life recently? He's sensitive lately, and sometimes he finds it hard to deal with you, who frankly have all the sensitivity of a dropped anvil._

**Dear Moony,  
Dropped anvil? What?  
Love,  
Padfoot**

_I'm tired of this. No more notes._

**Dear Moony,  
Come on. This is the best class for notes. Binns, hasn't punished a notepasser within the since the Goblin Revolution of 1509.  
Love,  
Padfoot**

**Dear Moony,  
Did you catch my bit of History of Magic humor there? There wasn't a Goblin Revolution of 1509 . . . so, really, Binns has never punished a note passer. Ha. See, I can pay attention and pass notes.  
Love,  
Padfoot**

**Dear Wormtail,  
No one appreciates me. You love me right?**

_**Hey, how come I didn't get a salutation on my note? Moony and Prongs both got salutations and they wouldn't even respond to all your notes.**_

**Dear Wormtail,  
My hand is starting to cramp up and my last note to Moony hit McKinnon on the head as I threw it. Pardon me if I'm getting a little sloppy and lazy. McKinnon is giving me scary looks. So, do you love me?  
Love, Love,  
Padfoot**

_**Sure. I love you just like I love my other male friends.**_

**Ooooo . . . kinky.**

_**No introduction and no salutation? I'm hurt.**_

**Just get Prong's attention for me will you. Otherwise I might just have to leak your love of all your male friends.**

_**Says the man who signs all his letters with love.**_

**But when I do it it's sexy.**

_**I'm tired of this. Will getting Prong's attention make you stop?**_

**Of course. I love you Wormy I really do.**

Is there any particular reason why you're making Wormtail throw parchment at me, Padfoot?

**Oh, now you want to talk. Now you'll answer my notes. You know, maybe I don't want to talk anymore.**

Fine with me.

**No, wait! Without your love I'll shrivel up and fade away. Just tell me what's wrong, Jamsey. When I'm bored and you wont play with me I get clingy. But just remember, I'm here for you. Tell Dr. Padfoot what's wrong.**

Did you hear Mary Macdonald talking to Marlene Mckinnon at breakfast this morning?

**No, but I was just struck with the alliteration that is so prevalent within this noble academy of witchcraft and witchery. Funny also that they are both Lily's friends. LE, MM, and MM . . . Does that spell anything?**

Macdonald said that the night after the Defense O.W.L. Snivellus was camped out outside the fat lady because he was so desperate to talk to Lily.

**So. Surely you've noticed that Lily and Snivelly have a more cordial relationship than is typical of Gryffindors and Slytherins. They were friends before Hogwarts.**

But I haven't seen them together nearly as much this year and this was after the Defense exam, after he called her a Mudblood and refused her help. But, Macdonald says she talked to him. Why would she talk to such a git, but she wont talk to me?

_If you recall what happened after the Defense exam you were the one who initiated the gitish behavior._

**Moony, why are you participating only after Prongs has real news to write about?**

_It intrigues me that Snape knows where our Common Room is. Do you think Lily told him about it?_

Why would Lily betray such information? Does she have no Gryffindor pride?

**Evans has always been a queer bird. I guess she and Snivelly suit each other.**

Don't say that. She's way to good for him. I have no idea how that slimy git wormed his way into her heart.

_If it makes you feel any better, Mary told me that Lily seems to have ended her friendship with Snape._

Wow, where do you get all your info Moony?

_I listen. Did you know that listening during Lunch and even classes can lead to gaining all sorts of valuable information. Such information can even come up on exams._

_**Things you've heard during lunch have come up on exams before?**_

_I was just trying to illustrate a point._

Do you think Lily is grieving after the end of her friendship and needs someone to help her emotionally recuperate?

**Sure, but if she is I very much doubt you, Mr. arrogant bullying toerag, would be looked upon as a favorable candidate for that position.**

_**Hmmm . . . do you think Fabian Prewett would be a helpful grieving buddy for Evans?**_

No. Not Fabian. He's a chaser with me. He knows I have her claimed. He wouldn't dare.

**Personally, I don't think our big bad got twelve O.W.L.s head boy is going to be very intimidated by you. I've seen him talking to Evans quite a bit, and you must admit she is a catch. If I were the head boy and in a position of power over miss Prefect I might be tempted to . . .**

Tempted to what? Who leaves incomplete sentences, as though pausing in thought, on a note?

_James, I really don't think you need to be highly worried about Lily's relationship with Fabian. As far as I know Fabian has been madly in love with Emmeline Vance for years._

You really are a fountain of gossip today, Moony.

_I can't believe that these notes are longer than my class notes. I understand that this class grows exponentially more pointless after exams, but I'm still ashamed of myself._

Good point Moony. So, Mr. Knowledgeable, how permanent did Lily's blowout with Snape seem? Does the slimy git know his place now? I could cut down on the hexing if he'd leave Lily alone.

**You may cut down, but I wont. Snivelly knows about Moony now, and I'm not going to leave only a little promise with Dumbledore keeping him silent.**

_Do you really think hexing him is the best way to ensure his silence? Lily will never change her opinion of you unless you behave with a little more tact._

_**So, hex him in secret?**_

_No more notes until lunch._

**Are we really going to communicate with notes during lunch?**

It would be a new twist on planning the big end of the year prank.

_Because no one will suspect we're planning something if we pass notes in the Great Hall instead of talking._

_**Sarcasm doesn't suit, Moony.**_

**Yes. He's rather tetchy today. Lets get some food in our special hairy friend.**

**.**

* * *

**June 7****th****, 1976**

**From the notebooks of Sir Prongs namely James Potter**

The school year is winding down, leaving my friends and I with nothing better to do than laze away our time down by the Lake. When the sun starts to get a mite bit too hot or we tire of the monotonously green grass we'll pull a prank or two or perchance a lot.

Lately, Moony only joins in on the special occasion pranks. The ones this year were: the Christmas Mistletoe Attack, the Halloween Limb Loss Game, and the fabulous End of Year Professor Pin-ups. Moony keeps Padfoot and I from letting our pranks slip from amusing to tasteless. If only he'd been more willing to help, the Professor Pin-up idea could have been prevented. Though I must say I've never seen Slughorn looking quite so splendidly exposed. Whoops, there I go being tasteless again. I should stop. I need to stop. Actually, the stopping of tasteless acts is exactly why I've decided to commit my actions to paper.

After Paddy, Wormy, and my delightful self had finished a prank involving the suits of armor thinking that every Slytherin (third year and above, we're not cruel) had turned into a dragon in need of slaying I ran into Moony packing up in our dorm room. Wormy and I packed this morning and Padfoot will pack on the train, so I figured I could spare some time to help Moony.

Unfortunately, I'm about as good at household charms as I am at Divination. Moony's carefully ordered clothes piles scattered across the room, under tables, covering mirrors, out the open window.

Me: (in a sweet little repentant puppy voice) Sorry Moony, mate. I'll just summon them back.

Moony: No. I don't need my progress impeded any further. This is what comes of waving your wand without thinking. Or really, using magic so irresponsibly. Or really, just acting so rashly.

Me: What?

Moony: This is precisely your problem with Lily. You see her, want her, then act, and inevitably your tasteless actions cause more harm then good.

Me: (A little lost as to how my bad Charms turned into a lecture about Lily) Tasteless?

Moony: Like that incident down at the Lake. Sirius whined, you saw Lily, Snape walked up and Bam you made a complete idiot of yourself and caused Lily to fight with Snape. Now, Lily is miserable and she likes you even less than she did before, and all because you acted without thinking.

Me: Lily feels miserable? But I thought she'd been fighting with Snape for months.

Moony: Yes, that's true. But this incident seems to be the final nail in the coffin of their friendship, and I can tell she's upset. She asked to have rounds with me.

Me: What? How does that indicate anything other than the fact that she's a stickler prefect?

Moony: Before she would go on rounds with Snape. The fact that she wants to switch means she's avoiding him. It means their friendship may really be over, and it means you caused it.

Me: (Understandably upset) I caused it! I'm not the one who called her a mudblood. I'm not the one who is up to my greasy nose in the Dark Arts. I'm not the one pals around with those wanna be deatheaters Mcnair, Avery, and Mulciber. I'm not the one making her miserable, it's that slime ball Snivellus.

Moony: That slime ball that you had the decency to save a few months ago in a rare act of selflessness. I'd thought you might be growing up a little, but with that incident by the Lake.

Me: Whoa, firstly the saving Snivellus thing wasn't about me warming up to him or anything. It was all for you. I wouldn't have stretched my neck out except that I know you would really have regretted eating such a greasy little spider the morning after.

Moony: Pity. I'd like to think that your act reflects more upon how truly decent you are than upon your feelings for me. (Moony sighs and gathers all his scattered possessions. Then he fixes me with his seldom used Prefect stare, the one he only whips out for when Sirius and I have been truly tasteless.) I don't mean to scold, but I truly think you can be more. I won't waste time lecturing Sirius or Peter, they won't listen, but you have a goal: Lily Evans. If you look upon Lily as a goal, a person to be gradually wooed, and judge your actions in that light you might find you have more success.

Me: So . . . you're saying if I take it slow—

Moony: And behave more tastefully.

Me: And behave more tastefully, I will be able to win Lily?

Moony: Well it's certainly more likely, and maybe, just maybe, you'll find yourself changing too. Remember magic may make things easier, but not everything can be done with magic.

Me: But, how am I going to judge the tasteless thing?

Moony: (As he gathers up his things and leaves the dorm, abandoning me with my muddled thoughts) Just think. Always think before you act.

So, listening to my trusted friend, I thought, and I figured one way to easily judge my actions and plans is to commit them to paper. When an idea is solidly on the page it tends to be rather more obvious whether it's stupid or not. For example:

Hex suits of armor into seeing all Slytherins (third year and up) as dragons and pursuing them accordingly.

Whoops. Now that I think of it, this could have been a bad idea. For one thing, some of the armor have maces and axes and lances and junk. I suppose Lily frowns upon inflicting actual physical harm to students even if they are Slytherins. Also, selectively targeting Slytherins clearly indicates that this prank was perpetrated by a Gryffindor, and Sirius and I really don't need to stock up detentions for next year. So . . . in hindsight, this prank was tasteless. Lily wouldn't have approved.

I wonder what she thought of the Professor Pin-up.

Tastefully yours,  
Prongs

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**Author's Note: **I hope you enjoyed it, because I have the second chapter almost finished. Please review. Praise, Criticism, badly spelled profanity, I'm up for anything.

_Droopy Breeches_


	2. Of Letters and Tongue Twisters

**Author's Note: **Look at me, being responsible and posting the second chapter only two or so days after the first.

I would like to express my gratitude to those who took the time to read and especially those who took the time to **Review**. As an added incentive, if you take the time to review I promise to respond to you at the end of each chapter, even if the response only ends up being something inane like: thanks! Lol. I love that too! . . .

Well, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy!

_Droopy Breeches_

_._

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My Prefect Notebook:

June 25th, 1976

I truly hate the summers away from Hogwarts. I love being back with my family, but still, I hate the summers.

Mum and Dad are always immensely supportive, but ever since magic became the true focus of my life I know that they don't truly understand what I'm talking about. This is sounding cruel. I just mean to say that they try to have a genuine interest in my school life, but without the personal connection they inevitably get lost and confused.

Mom will ask me about my classes, and I'll describe my Charms professor, Professor Flitwick, and my suspicion that he may be part goblin. Then, Mom will laugh and gush about what an interesting life I have. I'm sure she finds it interesting, but deep down I suspect that she doesn't quite believe it, that, to her, my magical life is some novel or soap opera she's discovered. Fascinating, but ultimately just pretending at reality.

Maybe I'm just paranoid. I shouldn't doubt my parents. They're wonderful people, and if I'm feeling awkward around them that's my fault for letting distance grow between us, for spending my holidays at Hogwarts, and my summers with Severus . . . Severus Snape.

See, I can write his name. I can be a mature individual and write his name. I can acknowledge that even though we aren't friends any more we were once close and to avoid speaking of him or writing about him is the height of immaturity.

But really, without Severus to talk to this summer I feel more isolated than ever.

Today, Mum and I have discussed: Recipes, the neighbor's activities (I really wish she'd stop spying on them), my love life (ha!), Petunia's love life (like I'd want to know), the stamp tax hike, which soaps have the most plausible romantic pairings, and my love life again.

Today, Dad and I have discussed: The world cup . . . and that's pretty much it.

Today, Petunia and I have discussed: The possibility of me not being home when her boyfriend stops by tonight.

Actually, Petunia and I didn't really discuss this topic, more like Petunia conveyed her opinion at window shattering decibels after I spilled frog spawn all over her new summer dress.

This isn't perhaps a fair representation of my sister. I'm always complaining about what a shrew Tuney is, but I think her real problem is pride. Sometimes when her facade slips, she'll shoot me a smile or we'll discuss who has the nicest arse on the Irons, but inevitably my owl swoops in and she remembers: remembers how I had to be different, remembers how she had to walk to school alone, remembers Mom and Dad's bemused laughter at my weekly owl, remembers the neighbor's whispers, whispers comparing us: Brilliant Lily off at private school in Scotland versus horse-faced Petunia barely scrapping by at public school. In come the memories, and so Tuney pinches her face and clings on to her pride. Pride says that Tuney hates everything about magic, including me, her once best friend.

I'm ranting, what I mean to say, is that, unfortunately, Petunia and I ever so rarely get along.

After my fight with Petunia today I ran off to my favorite cool down spot to vent some steam in this lovely notebook. Our home is in a relatively nice suburby area, but about a mile to our west lies Spinner's End. Once it was a thriving fabric mill village, but after the industry moved south grime built up on the whitewashed factory walls. Now, Spinner's End is considered rather an impoverished dump.

But just because the houses are unpleasant doesn't mean the area is entirely lacking in charm. By the abandoned mill the river now runs clean and the woods sparkle. I adore woods. When the sun streams through the canopy the light gains this winebottle hue that used to make me believe anything was possible. Ironically, it's in that magic light that Severus taught me the basics of Wizards and Witches.

If I recall correctly, he also said that my being muggleborn didn't matter. Wow, Sev. Really? It matters to Voldemort, it matters to all your nasty friends, and, apparently, it matters to you.

I wish it really didn't matter, or at least that it didn't matter to Sev. If it really didn't matter he'd be here with me and I'd confide all my worries that Petunia won't hear and I don't think my parents would understand.

I'd tell him how terrified I am about getting back my O.W.L.s. How I feel like I need to pass everything or I'll just be proving his jerk friends right about muggleborns.

I'd tell him about my potion examiner's reaction when I followed his advice and added the gerdyroot juice to prevent headaches as a side effect of Ptolemy's revival draft.

I'd tell him about Dumbledore's joke about how he should just make me head girl next year seeing as the incoming seventh year girls lack the discipline to resist the charms of incoming head boy Frank Longbottom. I'd of told him how much I really hope this means I get to be head girl my seventh year, and how I don't really understand Dumbledore's sense of humor seeing as Frank may be cute, but he's hopeless on a broom, and you know that that's all those girls really value.

I'd tell him how I say Voldemort's name so that my friends think I don't care, but how I'm really terrified of what Voldemort could do to me, could do to my family.

I'd tell him how after Sylvie Pritchett's family was killed I cried in my dorm for hours. But didn't come down all weekend because I was so ashamed of the reason behind my tears: relief over the victims, and fear for my family, not any genuine sympathy for Sylvie.

Actually, if he were here, I'd probably slap him. I'd tell him what a git he was for telling me such lies before I knew better. How his words then, only salt the wound of his current behavior.

Enough! I'm tired of wasting ink bemoaning a friendship that's over. And trust me, it's definitely over. I've tried for years to pry Severus from those blood suckers who he pals around with now, but he doesn't seem to value my opinion as much as theirs. He might have just called me a Mudblood to maintain his Slytherin rep, but I've had it. He chose them and I choose to separate myself from him, a dark reflection of a former friend.

I've been writing for a while now. The sun's setting and I can barely see my pages, but the river looks beautiful. A rushing Gryffindor banner: roaring red and gold. Yet here I sit in the silver green shadows of this grove; I'm stuck dwelling on my Slytherin, and nature knows it.

Arghhh. I hate this pathetic behavior. I need to get out of this environment. If I do something proactive, maybe I'll stop dwelling. Tomorrow I'll write Marlene and Mary. Surely one of them wouldn't mind a little visit.

Love,  
Lily

.

* * *

June 26, 1976

Dear Marly,

How has your summer been so far? I've finished all of my Charms and Transfiguration, but I haven't even started the defense project. You probably think I'm some homework loving no life. Two weeks into summer and I've already finished all but our tiny little Defense essay.

Speaking of essays, have you finished yours for Burbage yet? Knowing you, I bet you haven't even picked up a quill since we got off the Hogwarts express. I could help you if you want. I can see how Muggle Studies must be a difficult subject for you. If I had been forced to take a Wizard Studies class first year I certainly would have struggled.

Thinking about it, all the classes at Hogwarts other than Muggle Studies are Wizard Studies classes, so really my above statement was rather stupid. But I did struggle a little. Remember when that terrifying fifth year Rolanda Hooch found out I didn't know what quidditch was and felt impelled to teach me. That was also my first encounter with the Hospital Wing and the wonders of magical healing. Before she graduated Hooch told me of her plan to prevent ignoramuses like me maiming ourselves on brooms: mandatory flying lessons for all first years. I hope no one ever enacts such a plan. The mass maiming of muggleborns would surely result.

Hmm . . . mass maiming of muggleborns say that ten times fast. Never mind, that's not really a pleasant tongue twister.

So, getting back to the point. Do you want me to come stay with you for a couple of weeks. I could teach you difference between ovens, toasters and toaster ovens, and I would provide some much needed rational so that you and Davy don't enact any of your more wild schemes.

Love,  
Lily

* * *

June 27, 1976

Lily,

Wow. You've really finished all your homework except for the defense essay? You must be immensely, immensely bored right now. I'd love to have you come over, as would Davy who is still amazed that a girl so positively "awesome in an un-girl like way" (his words not mine) can exist. But, as much as we'd love your company, and I'd love for you to do my Muggle Studies essay, we can't have you over. Dad's been called to France to report on You Know Who's influence abroad. I know it's not really that pleasant of an assignment, but Dad figured if the Prophet insists on travel we might as well make a vacation of it. So, I guess I'm going to spend my summer tracking deatheater activity in France.

That sounds scary, I know you're probably hyperventilating right now, but don't freak out, Lily. Daddy dear assures me that Ma, Davy, and I will be entirely out of harms way. I don't know when I'll return, but if there's still some summer left I promise to owl you.

Hugs and Kisses,  
Marlene

.

* * *

June 29, 1976

Dear Mary,

Have you heard about what Marlene's doing this summer? Fighting deatheaters in France! Okay, following deatheaters is France. When I heard, I wanted to throw my Arithmancy textbook at that father of hers. Is he mad? Marlene is just barely sixteen, she can't even apparate away from the deatheaters that she'll be chasing. Plus, Davy is just ten. He hasn't even started his training. I wrote her begging for someone to stay with over the summer, but now I probably won't even ever get to see her again.

Mary, you have more pull with her than I do; please, please convince her to forgo this bad, bad idea. Remind her about what happened to Sylvie's family. If she keeps up this mad _vacation_ plan she's bound to end up just like them. Does she have no self-preservation instinct?

I'm sorry that I'm panicking like this. I just have far too much time on my hands. I've tried to get a job, but I have no previous experience. Some places are willing to hire a greenie like me, except that they'd want to look at my transcripts or get a teachers recommendation, and well, you see how that's not going to work. Can I come and stay with you for a few weeks? I know that you spend a lot of your summer helping out at the store, but I'd be willing to help. I'll even actually show your parents some of my grades if they need confirmation of my character. Though, I hardly think they'd need that when they've known me since I was twelve.

Please let me know if I can come over, I'm dying here I really am. If mom asks me about my love life one more time I'll stick my head in the toaster oven. Not the toaster, or the oven, but the toaster oven. Which Marlene would understand if she wasn't out fighting deatheaters.

Now, I'm going to throw rocks at passing children. Write back soon.

Love,  
Lily

P.S. I forgot that sometimes you have trouble understanding written sarcasm. I'm not going to stick my head in a toaster oven or throw things at children, I'm just quite aggravated right now.

.

* * *

June 30, 1976

Dear Lily,

I'm hurt and offended by the fact that you think I don't understand written sarcasm. I've shared a dorm with you and Marlene long enough to understand sarcasm in all its many and varied forms. Including, written sarcasm. Not that I believe that the throwing rocks at children bit is sarcasm. I've seen you addled before, and I would be surprised if rocks are all you end up throwing. **See . . . I can do written sarcasm.**

By the way, Mum and Dad say it's fine if you come work in the greengrocers for a while. They know how responsible you are. You and Sugar Quills are purely responsible for me getting through my exams. By the way, have you ever noticed that the ink of an old sugar quill sometimes has crystals in it? Also, I left one in the sun and its ink turned to purple, syrupy, goop. Cool observation, eh?

Feel free to Floo up on the third. I'll have a bed made up for you and a mountain of squash for your sorting pleasure. If you're going to impose on me than I shall force you to sort all of the heavy veggies.

Lots of Love,  
Mary

P.S. Marlene will be just fine. I've heard oversea deatheater activity is minimal, and I'm sure she's not going to be the one actively pursuing them.

.

* * *

Prongs,

She won't let me come over. Walburga, the hag, though she detests my presence finds that the pleasure of depriving me of pleasure exceeds the pain my company causes her.

This house, this great old festering house, is wearing away at my sanity. Dad was the only slightly decent person in this hell hole. Not that he wasn't a bigoted pure blood maniac, but at least he was too lazy to do anything about it. If I recall correctly, when I came home for my first merry, merry Christmas after being sorted Mom yelled for hours about "dishonoring the family". She said that the only reason I remained on the family tree was that I wasn't, at least, in Hufflepuff. Imagine if I'd been born a squib. I'd of probably been put right in an orphanage. Thoughts like that make me wish I'd been born a squib. But after Mum lost her voice Dad just gave me a long cold pureblood stare and said, "You've done it then." and returned to drinking his dark red, probably blood, liquid.

Yup, Dad's comment wasn't actually even insulting, just vaguely confusing with unpleasant implications. Pity that Mum had to go and drive him to death. We used to have the nicest silences over breakfast.

In a bored attempt at rebellion I fetched out our Professor Pin-ups to put on my wall and, what do you know, they've reverted back to their shiny muggle beach bunny selves. So, I pinned those up thinking that upon reflection they're much nicer to look at than dear old walrusy Slughorn. Plus, the fact that they're muggles is likely to drive Walburga to full bull troll fury.

Full bull troll. Say that ten times fast. If words end in the same sound what is that? It's not alliteration. Is it assonance?

Anyways, because I'm confined to my house I won't be there to sign for the motorcycle parts that I sent to your house. Will you please pretend to be Sirius Black? I know that it might be difficult, but the muggle postman has probably only heard of me, and you're decent looking, so you can pass for me on a bad hair day. Make sure to tell the postman that you're having a bad hair day. I don't want my rep damaged.

Love Love,  
Padfoot

.

* * *

Padfoot,

Full bull troll is an example of consonance, which is when there is a close similarity between consonant sounds especially at the ends of words. You could also just call full bull troll a rhyme, but normally when the words are in sequence like that it would be an example of consonance. Assonance is a similar concept, but normally relates to vowel sounds.

Sorry that you can't come over, mate. But you can be really annoying, so I'm sure that soon the pain that your company causes your Mum will exceed the pleasure she gains from depriving you of pleasure.

Without your presence, I feel very deprived of pleasure as well. Godric's Hollow is just jam packed with little wizardlings willing to play quidditch with me, but none of them have your flying skills (after all no one is quite as buoyant as you Mr. Puffed-Up-I'm-So-Good-Looking-Black). Plus, none of the wizardlings are even near my age. And let me tell you, you feel a real prat when your keeper runs home crying after you hit him in the head with the quaffle.

So, since I've decided that hurting small children is a rather tasteless thing to do, I haven't been spending as much time this summer playing quidditch. Instead, I've been chatting with Frank Longbottom. I probably haven't mentioned it before, but Frank lives in Godric's Hollow too. If you don't remember Frank, well, here's something to jog your memory: he's the prefect who caught us that time we tried to turn Hagrid's hut into a gingerbread house. Yeah, the friendly one who applauded us on our ingenuity before giving out the detentions.

Well, Frank and I have been devoting a good portion of our time to exploring the muggle neighborhoods in Godric's Hollow. They have the oddest shops in muggleville. We wandered into a music store where I was shocked to see that muggles have wirelesses too. But the weird thing is that the muggles's wirelesses work almost exactly the same as ours, but without magic. Frank and I were understandably puzzled, so we asked the shop lady how they worked (we of course didn't mention magic, we were totally subtle). The conversation went something like:

Me: (In a friendly non-suspicious voice) Shop Lady can you assist my associate—

Frank: friend. Can you assist my friend and I with a problem?

Shop Lady: Sure, do you want to know the price of that radio?

Me: This what? Frank, I thought this was a wireless.

Frank: (whilst shushing and hitting me) Shhh . . . I think they might be the same thing. Let me speak. Excuse me, Madam, I grew up in a community that shunned common musical devices like this radio thing, so me and my friend—

Me: Who also grew up in this music shunning community.

Frank: Yes, me and my musically stunted friend would like you to tell us how this non-magic but seemingly magical device works.

Shop Lady: (seemingly nonplussed or just a very good employee) Kind of like the telephone—Wait, did you have those in your community?

Frank: Yes, many. We had many of those-those things.

Shop Lady: Okay, well kind of like the telephone, radios transmit signals via electromagnetic waves, but with radios wires aren't used because the waves are of a low enough frequency that they can oscillate through . . . Blah, blah, blah, space vacuum . . . Tra, la, la, alternating currents . . . Whoop, de, doo, on sale latest model . . .

So, in conclusion, after being thoroughly baffled, Frank and I just bought the wireless radio thing and tweedled around with all the button, dial, dooda things until we gained a working knowledge of the box. I must say, some of these muggle bands are pretty good. The only problem is that when I find a song I like, the muggle wireless won't replay it upon request. Frank and I are thinking of going back to the music store to see if we can buy a replayer radio thing.

But basically, I'm learning all sorts of interesting things about the muggle world this summer. I wish I had taken Muggle Studies, then I would have known about all this magical muggle music earlier.

Magical muggle music say that ten times fast.

Hope you can come visit later, and keep giving Walburga hell for me.

Tastefully Yours,  
Prongs

P.S. Your motorcycle parts aren't here yet. Sorry I haven't had the opportunity to lie to any postmen for you, yet.

.

* * *

Dear Prongs,

Since when did you become such an expert on literary devices? That wasn't part of our magical education. Clearly, clearly, you are spending too much time around muggles.

Also, why did you sign your letter Tastefully yours? Were you worried that I might object to a letter containing any content that wasn't up to the tasteful standards I grew up with. You said both hell and arse in your letter. How can you even dare to sign such vulgar trash _Tastefully Yours? _

One of the worst parts about being confined to this house is seeing my poor pathetic brother follow in every one of Mum's stinking footsteps. What really stings is that he wasn't always this way. Before being thrown into Gryffindor made me so markedly different, he was a much more mellow boy. I remember Reggie following me around in his snake spotted nappy and jammies saying that I was his "wole mowdel".

I almost feel responsible for making him into the toad he is today. If I hadn't been such a disappointment to Mum, she wouldn't have focused so much energy on making sure Regulus turned into the perfect pureblood prodigy.

Perfect pureblood prodigy. Say that ten times fast . . . Actually, don't. I'm tired of this game. I'm tired of pretty much everything to do with my wretched family. If Walburga pushes me one more time I'll snap. I'll hex off her foul mouth. I'll shove Kreacher in the laundry shoot. I'll doodle upon all Reggie's Dark Lord press clippings. I don't know what I'll do, but as soon as I do it I'm out of here.

I'll flee this horrid place and run to your awaiting arms. That is, if they aren't occupied with Frank your new bestest bud.

Love,  
Padfoot

P.S. Even I know about radios. I feel sorry for you and Frank. When I come over I'll introduce you to my friends Simon and Garfunkel. They have some crazy lyrics that I suspect you'd be fond of dear buddy mine.

.

* * *

**Review Responses (You can have one too, if you review):**

**: **One, your name is hard to type. Two, thank you for being my first reviewer. Here's more.

**rubysun: **Wow, you wrote a lot. Don't tell the others, but I love you best. I applaud your efforts in the Teddy/Victoire pairing. I find similar patterns throughout Lily/James. It astonishes me how Lily is always a drop-dead-gorgeous, but unappreciated, stick in the mud, and how James is always a "wuvable twamp" (I love that phrase. I might just use it later) with Qudditch-toned abs and a breathtaking smile. How does one get fit playing quidditch when brooms require no physical effort to move? Anyway, many thanks.

**jessicats: **I'm glad you find this amusing and original, that was the goal. Sorry that this chapter is a little more mellow, but there will be more marauder hijinks coming.

**Shimmerstar7: **Beautiful . . . I'm touched. I send many metaphor packed effusions of good will your way.

**Snakes Eat Cakes: **I love your name, and totally agree with your sentiments. I once tried to keep a constant journal, and it was nigh on impossible.

**Friend in Need: **Thanks . . . I did.

**A/N: **Well, I thank all readers and reviewers and promise to update again in a few days. Faster if motivated.

_Droopy Breeches_


	3. Of OWLs and Exhausted Birds

**Author's Note: **This is my shortest chapter yet, but I felt the need to address the Lily Severus issue a little bit before I headed into the action. Don't worry though. Next chapter, which is already almost finished, is rather long (and finally includes some James/Lily interaction as several people have been asking for).

So, thank you all for reading, and super thanks to those who read and reviewed.

_Droopy Breeches_

* * *

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

_Lily Evans has achieved_

Ancient Runes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . O

Arithmancy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . O

Astronomy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .E

Care of Magical Creatures . . . . . . . . A

Charms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . O

Defense Against the Dark Arts . . . . O

Herbology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .O

History of Magic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . O

Potions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .O

Transfiguration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . E

.

My Prefect Notebook

July 2, 1976

Oh my, Oh my! I got back my O.W.L. results today, and I passed! I passed everything. I can't believe it. I was so sure that I was a goner on Care of Magical Creatures. I've never been particularly good with animals, and the bowtruckle I was tending slipped out of my hand and managed to give Susan Barmey some rather serious slivery gashes all over her left arm. I probably only scrapped by an Acceptable because of by quick charm work in subduing the nasty little beast.

I'm rather ashamed of my Astronomy grade. I got an E. I really shouldn't complain, but I studied so hard. I probably didn't do well on the star chart section. I'd been studying such late hours all week that everything seemed blurry, and I swear my telescope had a foggy lens. But, hey, an E is Acceptable. Well, actually an E is better than Acceptable, so than why does it feel worse?

Exceeds Expectations actually feels rather negative, like if you got an E it's because you're normally mediocre and your good performance has exceeded their low expectations. By that logic anyone could get an Exceeds Expectations if they performed slightly better than normal. That means that Gregor Goyle could get an Exceeds Expectations merely by showing up to the exam. I didn't think he would, so, he has exceeded my expectations. I'm going to petition to have E changed to Excellent. But then again there's hardly a difference in the tone of Excellent and Outstanding.

Oh my, Oh my! I've got it. E can stand for Erudite meaning having or showing great knowledge. Thus, getting an E means you showed great knowledge even if it wasn't simply outstanding. Grrr . . . Wizard Grades make me want to switch back to the muggle system, simple Alphabetical order up to F. I bet the reason that muggle grades skip E is because it's such a stupid letter with so few good choices as to what it can stand for.

All right, I've paused to take a breath and reflect on my immature rant. I was being silly. I did excellently and have every reason to celebrate. I've passed my O.W.L.s. I received ten, ten of them! Now that I've proved what I'm capable of I'll have to work even harder. I'll probably drop Care of Magical Creatures and maybe Astronomy. After all, none of the jobs McGonagall and I discussed need those two frustrating and painful classes.

I passed everything and tomorrow I'm going to Mary's house to sort squash. This totally makes up for the awkwardness of yesterday. Which . . . in order to be responsible and properly vent . . . I suppose I must write about.

Yesterday, I wandered down to my winelit grove to say my last goodbyes. As I dipped my toes in the stream, I pondered all my goals for the upcoming year. I hadn't received my O.W.L.s yet, so I was understandably still rather frightened about proving all the purebloods right. I figured that if I was lucky enough move on in some of my classes I'd focus even harder on my potion studies.

Out of all the careers that McGonagall and I discussed the experimental Healing sounded like the best fit, a career where I'd get to combine my strengths, namely Potions and Charms, to produce new medicines that could help the entire Wizarding World. Also, I hear this career would require minimal interaction with living animals, only their nicely pickled body parts. I'd need to work harder on my Herbology, but it's possible. With dedication, I believe I really could make a difference. I could really work proactively to help wizards and maybe even muggles.

Well, as I pondered my future in the streaming silver light I saw a splash of black reflected in the river. I knew what that must be. My first impulse was to flee. I tensed getting ready to fly, but as soon as I lifted my head I couldn't move. I was a deer caught in the headlights, too terrified and fascinated to do the smart thing and just run, run, run. Severus stood directly across the bank, and in his dark eyes gleamed with an incomprehensible intensity.

I didn't, I still don't, understand this look, but that doesn't mean I don't know it. This look, this look started growing after he became Lucius Malfoy's pet project, after he decided that Mulciber and Avery made far better company than a scrawny mudblood. This look sent a cold chill down my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck and freezing me by the foot of a flaking sycamore. I couldn't bear it anymore and looked away.

The ribbon of silver that separated us carried his murmur to me. "Lily, I didn't think that you'd come here."

"I haven't been. Well, I came once before, but I don't intend to come here again. I'll leave."

"Lily." His voice rippled softly, but with a desperate edge. I found myself looking up, and his eyes had changed. In them now I saw a glimmer of my first friend in the magical world, my potion buddy, my escape from Petunia. I felt tempted to run to him and make amends, but it's not just Petunia who has pride.

"I'm leaving, Sev." I walked only a few steps before I heard his desperate yell.

"Lily, you know I didn't mean it! You know it was a mistake! You know me." He was eyeing the river as though he was tempted to jump in and wade across.

"Sev, I know you're sorry. I forgive you for that, but it's not just that, it's . . ." He put one foot in the river. "Stop it! Don't get all soaked for nothing. We've changed. We've changed so much that it feels impossible for us to be friends." That got him even more riled and he put the other foot in. The deepest the river gets is around four feet, but the flow is swift and as he stepped closer I worried the idiot might get swept away.

"Stop, Sev! Stop!" He trudged forward and his eyes gleamed black. I was dually terrified of him getting hurt and of hurting me, so I shouted the first thing that came to mind.

"Sev, I hate Avery and Mulciber. I hate the deatheaters who would threaten my family. I hate all bigots who twist and pervert magic for their dark aims. And I'm sorry, but as long as that's what you are . . . I hate you Sev!"

It was my nickname that did it. When I'd insulted him before I'd called him Snivellus, Potter and Black's insult. He was used to being insulted under that name, but telling him I hated him as Sev stopped him dead in his tracks. His eyes gaped, blank and hollow, and so I ran. I turned and I ran, not looking back to see if he followed.

I'm such a beast. Sev has such a hard life. His dad is a monster, and his mum just ignores him. He once told me I was the only decent person that he knew, and then I go and do this.

I'm sorry Sev. I'm so sorry, but I can't do it anymore. Being friends with you is too hard, and I guess I'm a coward, but I'm a proud coward. I just can't face you.

Wow . . . good mood gone. Good thing I'm going to Mary's tomorrow. I can't imagine seeing him again.

Love,  
Lily

.

* * *

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

_James Potter has achieved_

Arithmancy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . O

Astronomy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .A

Care of Magical Creatures . . . . . . .E

Charms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . E

Defense Against the Dark Arts . . . O

Divination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . O

Herbology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . E

History of Magic . . . . . . . . . . . . . .P

Potions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A

Transfiguration . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..O

Padfoot,

I've enclosed my O.W.L. results for your perusing pleasure, pretty decent if I do say so myself. Only one fail out of ten tests, and I was always rather expecting to fail History of Magic, what with all the non-class related notes we take. I wonder what class we'll take notes in now. I suggest Transfiguration. We're already pros in that, and deep down Professor M is a softie. I'm sure you could charm her into being more lenient.

Did you notice my Divination grade yet? A solid O. I'm amazed, I made up every single word. Professor Tofty is definitely a gullible old man. But he must have liked that I predicted he would still be alive and kicking to test my future offspring. That would give him a good twenty to forty years, depending on when I decide to produce some offspring.

Tell me your scores. I'm dying here mate.

Yours Untastefully,  
Prongs

P.S. Your motorbike parts are here. The muggle postman let me sign, but he was looking at me in a funny manner. He might just suspect the truth.

.

* * *

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

_Sirius Black has achieved_

Arithmancy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A

Astronomy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .O

Care of Magical Creatures . . . . . . . O

Charms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . E

Defense Against the Dark Arts . . . .O

Divination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .D

Herbology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .A

History of Magic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . P

Potions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . E

Transfiguration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .O

.

Dear Prongs,  
Bollocks and Botheration. We have almost the exact same scores except that I got a D in Divination. How is it that we both lie out our arses, but that you get an O and I get a D? I should've taken a page out of your book and predicted good things for my examiner. Instead, I told old Madam Marchbanks that she'd be dead within a fortnight due to Mars's angle with Saturn. I'm great at Astronomy, I swear there's some truth in that. After all, the woman looks older than Dumbledore and one of the ghosts told me he is ninety something.

Oh well, at least we failed History of Magic together. The fact that we will both be dropping that tedious time waster fills my heart with glee. I suggest Defense Against the Dark Arts as the new note taking class. He may be strict, but I swear that Biggins is half blind. If we sit on the back row the note taking should be easy as stealing Filch's keys.  
Love,  
Padfoot

.

Padfoot,  
Stealing Filch's keys is not always such an easy task. Recall when we were third years and he caught on to the whole key stealing business and coated them in stinging sap? Yes, not easy at all my friend.

I submit that the new phrase should be easy as ticking off a hippogriff.  
Prongs

.

Dear Prongs,  
Easy as ticking off a hippogriff is so callous and lacking in a personal connection. Plus, hippogriffs seem to have a natural affinity for me. Remember when Professor Kettleburn brought Bloodbeak to class? He wouldn't bow for anyone but me. I am beloved by all animal kind.

I submit that the new phrase should be easy as getting rejected by Evans.  
Love,  
Padfoot

.

Padfoot,  
One, that was below the proverbial belt. Two, the phrase would only work for me, and probably you. We aren't sure she that rejects everyone. She might just be waiting for the right bloke. Or she could suddenly notice that a previously rejected bloke has become a generally more tasteful person and unreject said bloke.

I submit that the new phrase should be easy as choosing Frank Longbottom for a new best friend.  
Prongs

.

Dear Prongs,  
Since we can't seem to settle this, what's your favorite new word, ahh yes . . . tastefully, I submit that we bring in Moony.  
Less Love,  
Padfoot

.

Padfoot,  
Fine.  
Prongs

.

Dear Prongs,  
Way to waste parchment and exhaust your owl. I'll just contact Moony then, Owl Murderer.  
A Smidgeon of Love,  
Padfoot

.

Dear Moony,  
Prongs and I are in a fight over a good it's easy as . . . phrase. The fight has gotten personal, names have been called, tears have been shed, honor has been besmirched. Please settle this.  
Love,  
Padfoot

P.S. Please reply with your own owl as mine is exhausted.

.

Dear Idiots,  
How about: It's easy as Daphne Queenly.  
Moony

.

Moony,  
Brilliant. It's simple, a double entendre, and so very true.  
Prongs

.

Dear Moony,  
I would like to second the opinion of Mr. Prongs and add that Daphne Queenly frightens me.  
Love,  
Padfoot

.

Padfoot,  
Really? I thought that no woman was capable of frightening the proud Sirius Black.  
Moony

.

Dear Moony,  
I submit that Daphne Queenly isn't a woman, but some multi-headed monster. It's impossible that with one mouth alone she could have snogged as many blokes as the gossip mill tells me she has.  
Love,  
Padfoot

.

Padfoot,  
I submit that these letters are exceedingly silly, a waste of time, and exhausting poor Archimedes. I feel rather ill, and so I will bid you adieu.  
Moony

.

Dear Prongs,  
Moony is acting more moody than usual (hmmm . . . Moony more moody. That's actually a really good one), and he says he's ill. Do you think that he feels worse during the summer when he has to manage his transformations without us? I feel a real git. I'm locked up here, so I can't help him, but you should. How about you wrench yourself away from Dear Frank and invite him over. I'll join you as soon as possible, but for now Walburga is unrelenting. Oh, and I suppose you should invite Wormy over too. His form isn't really useful in dealing with Moony, but we don't want him feeling un-included. Now do we?  
Hugs and Kisses,  
Padfoot

P.S. Guard my motorcycle parts with your life. I want those little beauties pristine when I arrive.

* * *

**Review Responses:**

**Love among the Ruins: **I'm ever so glad that you enjoy Sirius. He's one of my favorite characters. I picture him as having a rather dark sense of humor, so when he's miserable trapped in his house he makes the best of it through dealing with everything with sarcasm.

**gingerbelle: **What ho! I'm ever so glad.

**jessicats: **I assure you, you posses a great deal of love also. After all, you're a double reviewer an they're doubly awesome. I'm glad you liked the Sirius bit. I'm trying to show the build up to his running away. Also, I looked it up and his mother's name really is Walburga. I just had to use that.

**rubysun: **Your review just made my whole day. It's nice to know that I have a reader who notices all the little details, and then tells me about them so thoroughly. I love you. I really, really, love you. I feel bad that this chapter is rather more tame, but the next chapter should be up within at least two days. Also, I promise to put more Regulus in for you. I have a big soft spot for the little king (and Kreacher) and think that his development would be interesting to explore.

**Snakes Eat Cakes: **You flatter far too much my friend. I'm blushing. I'm blushing.

**queenlyQ:** Don't worry, as stated above, there will be some (though brief) Lily/James interaction next chapter.

**: **Thanks. In future, if you are so kind as to review, I will just call you Sydney.

**A/N: **So there you go. Many thanks and I hope you will be so kind as to offer feedback. I'm open for any questions you may have.

_Droopy Breeches_


	4. Of Throwing Things and Progress

**A/N: **So, here is the next, and by far the longest, chapter. I'm breaking my own rule in this chapter by having rather freakishly detailed journal entries. But I looked back at some of my own journals, and occasionally, if I felt the incident was important I would be very, very detailed.

So just a few clarifying notes: 1. Ornithological=the study of birds 2. In this story Mary is a muggleborn, but since she lives in Godric's Hollow once she discovered she was a witch she learned about the vibrant magical community that exists there.

Many thanks. Please read and review.

_Droopy Breeches_

_._

* * *

My Prefect Notebook

July 11, 1976

I've been staying with Mary for a little over a week and, oh my, oh my, this is exactly what I needed. It's ever so easy to sulk when all you've got to do is read, but now that I'm proactively engaged, now that I'm putting my hands to good use, my mood has perked right up.

Once, when I was nine or tenish, I got really worried, not about the fact that I didn't have many friends, but because I didn't really enjoy spending all my time with the friends I did have. I liked to play occasionally, but really, I preferred spending my time reading or in the solitude of the neighboring wilderness. The thought that I might be unnatural, or just a really bad friend terrified me. Should I try harder to devote my life to socialization? Or should I just accept my lot as a spinster/hermit?

I voiced my fears to my father, who tended to offer a more rational ear to my problems than mom, and he told me that he was the same way. Dad said that some people enjoyed flitting their time away with parties and chatter whereas others, like him and me, would much rather watch a cup game with only the company of our nearest and dearest.

He summed up the point by telling me that I'm an introvert and should just learn to accept it. Naturally, I freaked out, taking introvert to mean that I was some sort of shy fellow who spent their time whispering to Satan in dark shadows. Dad clarified. Though many assume that an introvert implies shyness the actual definition of the word is: one who is energized by accomplishment. The definition of extravert is: one who is energized by people. Thus, I don't hate people, but I find the greatest satisfaction in accomplishment.

The point is, that now that I'm working (earning my room and board and even a small salary) I'm full of the life enriching energy of productivity. Huzzah!

Mary's parents run a real high-class greengrocers. They have a huge garden on their property where they grow an immense variety of muggle produce and (with Mary's help) even a few magical plants. Thus, their store has a huge selection and it's always guaranteed fresh.

This morning I spent a few hours tending the Butterbee Bushes with Mary. Butterbee Bushes, by the way, are the most lovely plants. They're magical, but not frightening, Mary only planted magical plants that the Greenhouse swore aren't inclined to biting, strangling, or otherwise inflicting grave bodily harm. They have these brightly colored petals that flap open and closed to indicate their mood. Sometimes, when the plant feels particularly giddy, petals will pop off in pairs and fly about for a bit before reattaching themselves. As the petals fly, they often form into birds or pirouetting maidens. They're truly spectacular to watch.

After dirtying ourselves with pruning and weeding Mary and I just plopped down by the bushes to watch the petals swirl. The sky shone so blue. The breeze smelled of rain. In that perfect moment, I felt like I'd probably never been more happy. Of course, now, in hindsight, I realize that that was absolute bollocks and I've been much happier, but the point is that I was feeling contented to a wonderful extent.

Just as I felt myself dozing off, Mary interrupted my flower-scented bliss.

"Lily, I've got some news that's sure to tickle you pink."

"Hhm?" I grunted, too tired for real words.

"Come on Lily, wake up. This is news you'll actually care about." She threw a handful of Butterbee petals in my face, and I reluctantly sat up as the indignant petals buzzed in and out of my hair.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Lily, you look like a nymph; shake out your hair."

"Mary, you're the one that threw them at me." I gave my hair a shake and the petals scattered forming angry animals as they left. "Now, what's your news?"

"Well, Fabian is here."

"Here? But Fabian lives in Ottery St. Catchpole?"

"He's here visiting a friend."

"Who, what friend?" I was rather surprised, I wasn't aware of any friends of Fabian's who lived near here.

"Frank. Frank Longbottom."

"What! Frank, but we know him. I didn't know Frank lived in Godric's Hollow. Why didn't you tell me, Mary?"

"Well, I-I . . ." Mary was stuttering and she started to shred at the grass by her feet. I knew these habits, so I just gave Mary a long hard stare knowing that she was bound to crack and give the whole story out if I just let the silence press on her. "Actually, there are a lot of wizard families around here. It's a historic wizarding village. I thought you'd know that from—"

"Yes," I interrupted. "from the _History of Magic_; I know. I knew this place was a wizard dwelling, but I didn't know any wizards I knew lived here. We could have visited. Frank is going to be Head Boy next year, as a responsible prefect I have an obligation to develop a working relationship with him."

"And that's the only relationship you want to develop with him?"

"Mary! You know I'm not like that. And what's with you and Marlene. First it was Fabian and now Frank, you act as though I have a Head Boy fetish."

"I know that you've always had an eye for authority figures. After all, you are Slughorn's favorite."

"Stop it!" I threw all the grass she'd ripped up right back in her face, and a fight quickly escalated. At its worst, I was stuffing clippings from the compost heap down her shirt and she was hurling manure. I know it's not exactly mature, but it sure was fun.

Exhausted, we collapsed right back on the hill where we'd started.

"Lily, now I'm all itchy and I'm going to need to shower."

"We both needed one anyway, after all that weeding. Now, we just need one rather more."

"Your hair is full of manure. I bet the sight of you now would even discourage Potter."

"What was that? Do you want some clippings shoved down your pants, too?"

"Sorry forbidden subject, I forgot."

I feel I should clarify here. Potter isn't a forbidden subject, just one I prefer to avoid, like cancer. Why waste your time debating all the intricacies of cancer when it's so unpleasant and there's currently no foreseeable cure for it. Actually, that might not be a good comparison. After all, there are many noble people who devote their lives to fighting cancer, and I don't want to dishonor their work. Potter is like acne, annoying but unavoidable. Plus, so few teenage girls can avoid falling prey to acne. Then again, I have acne, but I'm not about to give in to Potter. Enough, I'm tired of trying to create an apt metaphor for Potter. I'll return to my story.

"Not forbidden, Mary, just unpleasant." As I looked at Mary I noticed she was wearing her I've-got-a-secret-but-torture-couldn't-drag-it-out-of-me-smile, so I commenced further prying. "Mary, what other wizarding families live in this area? Any that I'd know?"

I could tell I'd hit the nail right on the head, a slight blush colored Mary's cheeks. "Well, let me think . . . the Longbottoms, the Boneses, the Bagshots, the Davies, the Vances, the Goldsteins, the Abbots, the Fenwicks, the . . . I can't think of any more who you'd know, really."

"Liar, I see that smile on your face. You're keeping something from me. Someone else I know lives here and you don't want me to know. Why don't you want me to know, Mary?"

"Well . . . Remus Lupin is here. I thought you wouldn't want to know, Sorry." She said it all in one quick, quiet breath as though terrified I'd yell at her for keeping such a secret.

I relaxed, Remus Lupin was no real problem. He slightly irked me, but only because he was such a negligent prefect. "Oh. Don't worry Mary, I don't care if the Lupins live here. I don't have any real problems with Remus. It's his friends who bug me."

"So, do you want to go over to the Longbottoms later and see Fabian? I'm sure he's been just desolate without you."

"I'm sure he hasn't, but yeah, I would really like to see him. We should owl and see when we can visit."

"Or we could just go over. He lives less than a mile away. Our mums are great friends, and Mrs. Longbottom loves to have pretty young witches visit her Frank. I bet our visit would be received rather well."

"Fine. But let's not go today I need a long shower and then I want to write to Mum."

"I second the shower bit," said Mary, and she quickly turned away, still acting a bit queerly.

So, Mary and I traipsed back into the house and took very long, very nice, and very separate (just being thorough) showers. I wrote a bit to mum, and now I've written a lot in here. Look what a proactive person I am.

Love,  
Lily

.

* * *

Dear James,  
I know we haven't seen much of each other these past few days, what with Fabian occupying my time and Remus yours, but I propose that we join forces, or gather all of our friends together, for one last outing into the mysterious muggle shops of Godric's Hollow.

Basically, I need something to occupy mine and Fabian's time on July 11 because Mum has decreed that I must vacate our home so that her friends, the rather old and very terrifying members of the Magical Ornithological Society, can have their gathering in peace. So, I figured that a romp about the muggle village might be just the thing to idle away hours and hours of time. Are you game? If so, I'd need to be out of my house by at least ten.

Frank

.

Dear Frank,  
I have a query: is the vulture hat that your mom owns part of the uniform for the Ornithological society, or is she just a very terrifying woman?

I asked Remus, and he's fine with me joining you and Fabian for a little romp. He wouldn't mind coming too, but he just got over a nasty flu and so he might not be feeling up to it. Anyway I'll met you at your house at nine thirty, that will provide an half an hour buffer zone, plus if Remus does feel up to playing with us there's no way he'll be awake until at least nine.

See you soon,  
James

.

* * *

From the notebooks of Sir Prongs namely James Potter

July 12, 1976

At last, progress! Maybe . . . actually, I'm not quite sure. Hmmm . . . I shall have to record in detail. Remus is sleeping, Sirius is still locked up, and Peter is visiting his sick aunt. Good. I'll have plenty of time then.

So, I haven't really been the best at consistently writing in this notebook. Not that I should feel guilty about that or anything. This isn't a journal; I'm not obligated to gush out every sappy detail of my life. No, this is a notebook, with official lines, and an area to write in the subject contained within, or in this case . . . Lily.

Was that tasteful? Perhaps not. Maybe making Lily the subject of this notebook makes me seem stalkerish. Fine. The new subject is an examination of James Potter's interactions with Lily Evans, and the degree of decorum observed during such occasions.

Did I just lose my train of thought? Why yes, it seems I did. Oh well, I'll just get to the point and fill you in about my day.

So, I woke up this morning packed full of excitement over my planned outing. I'm rather an early riser, and . . . frankly, Remus just isn't, especially so soon after a full moon. Thus, I felt the need to sneak out of my room rather than evoke his fully furry wrath.

Downstairs, Mum was already cooking up a storm. My mother, who is rather the greatest woman on earth, knows how much I like to take a flight in the early morning light, and often she'll wake up before me just to make sure I'm properly fed. But, looking over the rather gargantuan pancake heaped on the table I began to feel alarmed.

"Mum, I can't eat this much, even Sirius couldn't."

"But Remus can," she said frankly, flipping another few cakes onto the stack. "Besides you should eat more, you're a teenage boy for Heaven's sake."

"Mum," I said confused and still rather groggy. "Do you want me turning into the little lard lad?"

She shot me an appraising look, and said, "You're actually looking a little plump, Jamie. Maybe you should go for a jog."

"What! Then why do you want me to eat more? And no I'm not. Besides, I'm about to go for a flight."

"Hmph," she sighed adding another cake to the now tottering pile. "Broom riding doesn't provide any actual exercise. The broom does all the work."

"Not true. Did you know that the many of the best brooms draw on the magic of the wizard to sustain their spells? That way they last longer."

"Yes, but that won't help dissolve the poach you've been developing."

I grabbed a pancake and fled yelling, "I'm not fat."

I spent the next couple of hours flying, and then, though I didn't actually need it, jogging around the grounds.

As soon as nine rolled around, I deemed it prudent to check on Moony. Un-surprisingly, he was still curled up in a blanket nest. It would have been rather cute if Moony hadn't still been so grey and weary looking. I decided to wake him up as gently as possible, with a lovely and catchy tune:

"Help! I need some Moony. Help! Not just any Moony. Help! You know I need some Moony, now!!!" Suddenly, and at frightening speed an arm shot out of the nest and grabbed my collar, pulling me mere inches from Moony's weary face.

His voice came out in a jagged whisper and I felt just a little bit petrified, " Please don't wake me. No, don't shake me. Leave me where I am, I'm only sleeping."

"But Moony, I didn't shake you."

The hand released my collar and dived back within its nest, but the harsh voice remained, "They're Beatles lyrics, just like the ones you saw fit to disturb me with."

"Beatles? What are you talking about? I was just adapting a tune I heard on the muggle wireless."

"Get out."

"So, are you not feeling up for today's expedition to muggleville?"

"If you don't get out I will kill you, and then I will kill Sirius because your death alone won't make up for this. If I'm still not contented after killing Sirius I'll just have to pull your broom apart twig by twig and personally burn every little sliver until--"

"Fine," I said exiting. "But Mom made you a mountain of pancakes, and they're probably already cold."

"**Get Out!"**

So I fled. I fled all the way to Frank's, but I waited on his porch without knocking because I'd already faced an irritable werewolf and I didn't feel up to dealing with Frank's mum, as well.

Now that I think about it, it was hardly tasteful of Moony to behave in such a way towards me, his host, upon whose bed he was so comfortably nested, but oh well. I guess that Moony is normally so good that a small lapse is no big deal.

A few minutes later and Frank emerged with . . . Fabian. I'm not quite sure how to feel about Fabian. We've never been great pals, but we dealt with each other decently because we were on the quidditch team together. But since last year he's been quite a bit colder to me. For a while Sirius and I had a theory that the coldness was due to the fact that Fabian has a thing for Lily. But Moony said that he's into Emmeline Vance, and who am I to doubt Moony's infallible gossip mongering skills?

Even so, I felt a little awkward around the guy and kind of wished that Moony could have been stirred from bed to act as a buffer. After all, Frank wasn't doing a very good job of keeping the fellow off my back. He started with, " Hey, Jamsie, how's the wittle chaser doing?" and just went on from there:

"Have you gotten back your O.W.L.s? . . . Only nine? . . . Well, I suppose that's passable . . . I personally, got eleven . . . You heard I got twelve? That would mean I took every class. I may be good, but not that good . . . Oh, I didn't take Divination, after all, everyone knows it's a bull subject . . . Oh, you got an O in Divination? . . . Good job, I guess I'd except that of you . . ."

I rather wanted to punch him, but 1. That would upset Frank and 2. I'm sure Remus would site that as a prime example of acting tastelessly without thinking.

Ultimately, we popped back into the music store, where the kindly shop lady showed me how records and albums work. I bought a record player, which I'll pick up later since the thing was far too heavy to be lugging around all day.

Then we went to a muggle candy store (which wasn't nearly as nice as Honeydukes), video arcade (which was just confusing), gambling store (which was Fabian's idea . . . the git), dentist (which was rather frightening), and, finally, bookstore.

The bookstore was rather fascinating because it was just so quiet. When the books in Flourish and Blotts get bored they'll typically hum, swap places, or (in the case of the violent ones) rip their neighbors apart, but here they just sat, and they were all alphabetized. It was plain eerie.

When I pointed this out to Frank, Fabian snorted and told us what naïve babies we were, "They don't move or make noises because they're muggle, or non-magical, books, that means that they're just bundles of paper. You two are daft to get so shocked by the non-magicness of muggles." I exchanged an exasperated glance with Frank, I'm pretty sure Fabian was starting to get to him, too.

"Fabian," said Frank. "Don't act all high and mighty we may all be purebloods, but I know that you went to a muggle primary school and took Muggle Studies. It's no wonder that, that being the case, you know more than James and I."

"Plus," I piped in. "Knowing things doesn't entail you to be constant prat about them." Crap. Moony would disapprove.

Fabian's smirk slipped a little before Frank jumped in to smooth things over. "Guys, it's almost three. I'm pretty sure the Ornithological society must have left by now. How about we head back to my place?"

"Don't forget that you promised your mum that you'd pick up groceries, Frank," said the still-peeved Fabian.

"Fine. A quick trip to the greengrocers and then we'll head back."

"Fine, we'll do that," I added, even though it was unnecessary, just because I wanted to feel part of the decision making process.

Now . . . this is where it gets good, this is where the subject comes into play. Maybe, considering that this is the real area of import, I should have just started with this, but oh well. Being thorough never hurt anyone (though my hand does rather ache).

So, we strolled along to McDonald's Greengrocers to pick up the all the groceries that Mrs. Longbottom had jotted down before throwing Frank out of the house, and let me assure the list was rather grim: leeks, spinach, eggplant, okra . . . I pitied poor Frank's gullet.

As we entered the small store I felt my goosebumps prickle up. At the time, I was rather bemused as to the cause, but now I'm rather certain that they knew, that my deep down gut instinct sensed the approaching danger and was warning me not to be a prat, warning me that soon my newly found tastefulness would be tested. Unfortunately, though I now get that message that said goosebumps were trying to convey I didn't, as stated above, pay attention at the time.

"I'll go see if the McDonalds have okra. It's not really in season, but they typically have a good supply. You two grab eggplant," said Frank as he ran off to talk to the rosy-faced woman manning the checkout counter.

And suddenly, just like that, Frank had abandoned me with . . . Fabian.

"So, Fabian, what's an eggplant?"

"Really?" His smirk was back and just as irritating as before. "Wizards eat eggplant, too. Are you just plain ignorant?"

"I've heard of eggplant, my parents just have never felt the need to feed me one. My father says they're rather awful and desperately avoids them, so I'm not really sure what they look like."

"Okay, Jamsie," he said in a bouncing baby voice. "I'll help you find it." And as we walked down the aisles he pointed out and explained the items we passed: "These are watermelons, Jamsie. They're called that not because they're made of water, but because they're so darn juicy." "These are eggs. They were laid by chickens which in turn hatched from eggs, but don't think about the cycle too much, it can confuse the simple minded." "This is cabbage—"

As he continued rattling on, all I could think about was how every item we passed would have been perfectly suited to throwing at Fabian's giant head. But I held my hands at my sides and desperately pictured Remus's face, and when that didn't work Lily's face, Lily's pretty, pretty face.

"Jamsie," Fabian's dreadful voice cut into my pleasant musings. We were next to a large stack of purple-black squash things. "You aren't listening. Do you need me to review? This is an—"

I'm not quite sure how it happened, but my arm just suddenly twitched and Fabian was covered in purple-black goop. It appeared I'd thrown the squash thing at the git. I looked over at the pile, ah . . . so that's an eggplant. Maybe it's not such a bad vegetable after all.

"I hope you're going to pay for that," cut in a cold, but beautiful, voice, and suddenly, my goosebumps were dancing.

A delicate white hand picked up the smashed eggplant husk. And as I stared at the little hand another muggle song blazed through my head: _I wanna hold your hand. I wanna hold your hand. I wanna hold your hand. And when I touch you I feel happy, inside. It's such a feeling that my love, I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide!_

As soon as I snapped out of my musical reverie I saw Lily and Fabian embracing. Yes indeed, the beautiful hand belonged to Lily, beautiful, beautiful, Lily. After he released her (he was holding her a suspiciously long time for someone who is supposed to be dating the formidable Emmeline Vance) they both turned to glare at me.

"I guess you found the eggplant, James," said Fabian.

"Well, yes . . . I . . . eggplant . . . and—"

"What makes you think it's just okay to throw unpurchased produce all over the store?" cut in Lily.

"Well, it's hardly all over the store, just all over Fabian." Lily didn't look pleased. Actually, she had a look on her face rather similar to the look Sirius's mum got when she found out about his muggle girlfriend, last summer. At the time we dubbed it the _Bring me 50 sacrificial virgins for eating babies is no longer satisfying _look. Admittedly stupid, but I think it conveys the emotion well.

"Don't be too hard on him, Lily. I was teasing him." Was Fabian being decent? "Of course, I never thought he'd respond so childishly. So people are just so immature." No, no . . . of course not.

I had an urge to smash a few more eggplants in Fabian's face, but Remus's voice echoed through my mind: "_Just think. Always think before you act."_ Must I, Remus? Must I really? Oh well, time to dazzle them with truly tasteful behavior.

I stooped down and picked up some eggplant pieces Lily had missed. "I'll clean this mess up. I'm sorry for acting so rashly. Do you have a rag I could use?"

Lily blinked rapidly. "Rash? Rash? You just smashed an eggplant into Fabian's head, and you're sorry that you acted rashly?"

I couldn't quite tell whether her tone was more indignation with a dash of shock or bemusement with a smidgeon of murderous rage, so I figured repentant sinner was still a good approach.

"Yes," I simpered. "I'm sorry for getting eggplant all over the floor. If you'll give me a mop or a rag, I'll clean it all up."

Her and Fabian stood, silent and staring. "Really," I said. "I haven't gotten much sleep lately and clearly the exhaustion has made me act like a big prat, smashing innocent Fabian with this large purple fruit. I was really quite gitish, sorry."

My last statement was, in case you didn't notice, a tad insincere, and I'm pretty sure that Lily noticed it. "Fabian, could you clean this. I doubt he will," she said.

"Wait, I'll clean it. I really meant it!" But before I could even get that all out Fabian had vanished all the purple goo away. (Stupid legal wizard. Next year I won't even bother throwing an eggplant at his puffed-up cranium, I'll just jinx his face into a permanently purple condition.)

"I'm assuming," hissed Lily. "that you will at least pay for the damaged produce."

"Yes, of course. I always intended to. I wouldn't waste your money or—"

"Fabian, I'll see you later." And she stalked off her hair whipping behind her, fiery and snake-like.

Then, then of course, Fabian turned to gloat. Fabian knew how I felt about Lily (everyone did, really) and knew the internal anguish I was experiencing. "Well now . . . that didn't go very well, did it?"

"Did you do that deliberately? Did you provoke me knowing that Lily was here and I was bound to react?"

"Nah," grinned the git. "I'm not that conniving. Apparently, I'm just lucky."

I didn't want to be with Fabian a moment longer, and I certainly didn't want Lily that peeved at me, so, with a glare back at the git, after my lady love I fled.

Lily had gone out the back door of the shop into a large garden. When I ran out, I saw her sitting by a clump of bushes shredding the grass.

"Lily," I called gently. (After all when you've just sprayed pepper into a dragon's eye you don't insult its mother, too . . . does that even make sense?) "Lily, can I talk to you?"

"What do you want? What makes you think you can just come back here?"

"Well," I figured I should be as sincere as possible. "Well because I wanted you to know that the main reason I threw the eggplant at Fabian is because I hate that guy and have been holding myself back from hurling rocks at him all day. In retrospect the eggplant caused him much less pain than I would have hoped."

Oddly, my declaration of a desire to maim her friend (Or lover . . . but I hope not.) didn't seem to piss her off any more. In fact, I swear she almost laughed a bit when I mentioned hurling rocks. She didn't speak, but didn't speak also means didn't yell, so I continued.

"Fabian and I are both friends with Frank, but we don't get along. Frank ran off to get some gross veggie and left us together. Naturally, he began needling me and I just cracked. What I wanted you to know is that, though I may have been being a bit of a jerk, you weren't supposed to be affected by this jerkiness. The point is, I'm sorry that you became involved in this."

"Why are you saying this?" Lily was looking directly at me, and her eyes were just so green. I'd fallen under the spell of those eyes before, and I knew that extended contact inevitably led me to asking her out. Now was definitely not a good time for that, so I looked down at her hands, but they were grass-stained and that just reminded me of her eyes. I looked up at the grey sky. Grey was safe, very safe. Except . . . that Sirius had grey eyes, and if Sirius were here he would certainly enjoy and encourage me to ask out Lily. But so what, pondering Sirius was certainly safer than pondering Lily at this moment.

"Well," I whispered keeping my eyes up. "One, because your temper is legendary I don't want to evoke your wrath now that there are no teachers around and you're apparently staying only a few miles from my house. And Two, because you're a relatively decent person, and I wouldn't want you to think that I was deliberately trying to provoke you. Not that I don't sometimes deliberately provoke you, because I do, but today that wasn't the goal."

"Oh," and Lily was looking down again, so I could stop staring at the clouds.

"Potter, I appreciate you not trying to deliberately provoke me today, but I would really like some space, so could you please leave?"

"Yeah, sure," I muttered. As I walked off I was feeling rather dejected. Frankly, in my idealized imagining of this scene I would've told her that she was much more than a relatively decent person but the most lovely and supremely awesome witch I knew. Still, she hadn't yelled, and she asked me to _please_ leave.

Then, as I grabbed the door's handle, I thought I heard something, soft as a kitten's mew, carried upon the wind. I'm not sure, but I think it may have been a Thanks. If it was, then smashing an eggplant into Fabian's face might have been the smartest thing I've ever done.

So there it is, my maybe progress. I don't know if Lily saw my more tasteful side today, but I rather think she at least saw my moderately less gitish side, and that alone is great.

Even better, Lily is staying in Godric's Hollow this summer. I'll make sure there's plenty more progress. Though I must say I feel a little nervous about Lily's nearness to certain other blokes. I'm not sure if Lily is aware of quite how gitty Fabian can sometimes be, and then there was another slightly worrying incident.

As we finally exited the greengrocers (and I paid for the eggplant), Frank got a glance of Lily out the back door. "Who is that?" he said, with entirely too much interest, "I haven't seem her here before."

"Huh?" I was just a little bit puzzled because I knew that Frank had met Lily before, after all they were prefects together. "That's Lily. Lily Evans . . . the Gryffindor, Lily Evans."

"Really? She looks so different. She looks so . . ." his voice trailed off. I certainly hoped that the words in his head completing that thought were something along the line of: intelligent, responsible, of upstanding moral character, or (ideally) just like my little sister. But then I glanced out the window, and I understood. I hadn't really looked closely at Lily before (what with the whole avoiding her eyes business), but now I looked. I looked, and she looked so . . .

She was wearing a sun dress. I don't think I'd ever seen Lily dressed in something so distinctly . . . different. Petals danced in a whirlwind around her head, and some drifted down, star-bright spots in her red river hair.

In that moment, I was rather sure that Frank's thoughts couldn't help but be similar to mine. She looked so . . . beautiful.

Tastefully Yours,  
James

.

* * *

**Review Responses:**

**Sydney:** Yay. My fingers feel such sweet, sweet relief. I'm glad you enjoyed the "fighting" bit. I picture Sirius and James as not yet having created the magic mirrors. Thus, they have to result to exhausting their poor birds by making them fly between London and Godric's Hollow multiple times a day.

**Aqua Skies: **Whoot! I love new reviewers. Sirius has always been one of my favorite characters to read and write. I'm pretty sure his is still the death that affected me the most.

**jessicats: **It's so nice to know that people enjoyed the last chapter. When I posted it I was very worried that it was rather too short. Thank you ever so much for being such an awesome reviewer.

**imaginedreamer: **I always see two extremes of dealing with Peter in Marauder stories. He's either ugly dumpy scum that rarely features in the main story or he is just as attractive clever and generally funny as the rest of marauders (or at least Remus . . . normally, no one's as attractive as Sirius and James). I disagree with both of those. Peter wouldn't have become a traitor if he had it so good, and he would have killed himself if he had it so bad. I like to imagine Peter as the friend who no one feels they adore, but who is generally tolerated by everyone except Sirius.

**rubysun: **Yea gads, I'm glad you reviewed. I was worried you wouldn't, and you're ever so nicely constructive. In retrospect, I think you're right about the James/Sirius grades. I made them rather high because of the comment that James and Lily were the cleverest kids in their year (I feel that Sirius would have similar grades to James because he would be studying with him . . . ), but clever doesn't necessarily imply that he has to have terrific grades. If I can figure out how to do it I'll edit that a little. Thank you ever so much for your super detailedness. It's lovely to notice that someone catches all the small things I throw in.

**Snakes Eat Cakes: **Just your praise is enough. Many thanks.

**A/N: **Many thanks for reading. Please review. I love you all.


	5. Of Invitations and Runaways

**Author's Note: **Yay! an update. So, this chapter is rather more grim than most of the previous ones, but still . . . I'm quite proud of it. I would especially like to thank rubysun who gave me the idea, inadvertently but whatever, of putting a section from Regulus's point of view. It was a pleasure to write.

So, many thanks all, and please read and review.

_Droopy Breeches_

_._

* * *

Dear Miss Evans,

You are cordially invited for tea with Mrs. Augusta Longbottom and her son Franklin Longbottom.

We will expect you upon July the twenty-fifth at three in the afternoon.

If you are unable to attend this function send your regrets via owl by at least the twenty-third.

Yours truly,  
Augusta Longbottom

.

My Prefect Notebook

July 15, 1976

When I received this letter I was understandably rather baffled. It's not every day that you're invited for afternoon tea with a casual acquaintance and his mother, or at least I thought so until I talked to Mary.

"Yeah," she said holding up a lacy invitation identical to mine. "I got one of those too. Frank's mum has held a couple of these every summer since Frank turned thirteen."

"But what are these?"

"Well, typically everyone who is invited, and that's normally all the witches in Godric's Hollow who are within three years of Frank's age, gather at the Longbottom's house. We have tea and some really delicious scones all the while talking to Frank's mum. Then, when Frank's mum leaves to give the girls private time with Frank he typically sneaks out off the balcony."

"I'm still rather confused, as to the purpose of these teas. You make it sound like some bizarre mating ritual."

"That's because it is some bizarre mating ritual. Frank's mum is desperate for her son to get together with some nice witch, preferably under her watchful eye."

I was understandably rather baffled. As far as I knew Frank had had girlfriends before. He dated Dorcas Meadowes for a couple of months fifth year, and after that he dated, or at least did some serious snogging with, Daphne Queenly. "But Frank's had girlfriends before, shouldn't the teas have stopped when he went out with Dorcas?"

"Frank may have had girlfriends before, but I pretty sure he's never told his mum about them. I don't think you've ever met her before, but Augusta Longbottom is a seriously intimidating woman, and she's very picky about the women she wants with her Frank."

"But we're both muggleborn. We don't have family or blood status to recommend us, and she's at least never met me, how could she know about us?"

Mary leaned towards my ear conspiratorially, "Emmeline thinks that she talks to the Hogwarts professors. They say that she requests our O.W.L.s. I guess she must have been favorably impressed with yours."

I highly doubted that Frank's mum had managed to weedle her way into a copy of my O.W.L.s, but the party sounded intriguing. Plus, it would offer the opportunity I'd wanted to get to know my future headboy better. Best of all, since it seemed to be a special gathering of a harem for Frank party, I highly doubted Potter would be there.

Not that Potter not being there is actually that big of a deal, but as stated before, he's kind of like acne and I tend to try to avoid him. He wasn't that bad when I ran into him a few days ago, but it was just so awkward. I saw Fabian and ran up to hug him, and suddenly there's Potter hurling produce right before my eyes. And I wasn't able to respond to him with my typical witty repertoire because I was just so shocked to see him. Apparently, Mary had been withholding one family from me. I can't believe that she's lived in the same village as Potter her whole life, and yet never had the decency to tell me.

Oh well, Potter apologized, sort of, which was exceedingly weird, but rather pleasant, and I'm not going to waste my time fretting about him any more. At least not when there are such other great things to fret about: Why did Augusta invite me to tea? How does she know I'm staying in Godric's Hollow? What does one wear to tea at Longbottom manor?

Mary says that Frank's house is hardly a manor, but I've passed it a few times since I started staying here and, though it may not be Pemberly, I could certainly imagine a young aristocrat comfortably settled there. Is it just me, or are all the old pureblood families immensely wealthy? You'd think that over the years some of their rather rattled and inbreed descendents would have squandered the family wealth, but apparently no.

To ease my nerves I asked Mary what she typically wore to these shindigs.

"Oh, just frocks suitable for respectable young ladies."

"Mary," I squeaked out, in a panic, "I don't think I brought any frocks with me. The only dresses I have are the sundresses I took from Petunia, and they don't even have sleeves. They are certainly not suitable for respectable young ladies!"

"I was exaggerating, I'm sure a sundress will be fine. In fact, sundresses perfectly embody the frilly girlishness that Mrs. Longbottom desires for Frank."

"Could I borrow something nicer from you? No . . . you're much shorter than me. A nice knee length skirt from you will be positively indecent on me."

"I not that short," huffed Mary. Though mind you, that's a total lie Mary is a good head shorter than me and I'm average to shortish at best. "You need to relax, Lily. This tea thing is no big deal. If you don't want to go you can even cancel, the instructions are included in the letter. But you know, if you are feeling up to it sometimes these things can be really enjoyable."

"How so?"

"Well, Frank's mum is very embarrassing, and watching the seemingly unflappable Frank get all ruffled is a laugh. Plus, once she caught Frank as he was sneaking off the balcony and she started throwing scones. I got honey in my hair, but it was worth it."

So, I guess I'm going to the Longbottom's house for tea. Well, at least Mary is coming with me. I hope that I can forge a good working relationship with Frank, or, failing that, that a really fun food fight breaks out.

Tea at Longbottom Manor, bleh . . . I've never felt more pompous.

Love,  
Lily

.

* * *

James,  
I borrowed an owl from Tom the barman at the Leaky Cauldron. I couldn't send this owl with Snuffles as I doubt I'll have access to him for the foreseeable future. I'd floo over to your house, but Tom is out of powder, and I don't have any money, or really any anything. Come get me James, I need to be with friends. Oh my, that sounds pathetic. Oh well . . . the point is, I've finally done it. I kept telling you I would, and now I've done it. I've ditched number 12, or the twelfth circle of hell, forever. I'd rather be dismembered by chimeras than ever be forced back there again. Come get me.  
Sirius

.

Sirius,  
I'm on my way.  
James

.

* * *

From the notebooks of Sir Prongs namely James Potter

July 17, 1976

Sirius is settled down in the blanket nest next to Remus, and my room's beginning to feel like our dorm back at Hogwarts. Except that it's missing Peter squeaking in the corner and, of course, our rather more quiet dorm mates.

I don't know if I recall ever being more terrified than when I got Sirius's letter tonight. I ran into my parents and woke them, begging both for floo powder and permission for Sirius to stay.

"James," gasped my mother, "what happened? Is Sirius hurt?"

"I don't know. He's run away. He's been threatening to do it for years, but I always thought of it as a running joke. The fact that he's gone and actually done it must mean, it must mean—"

"You don't know that it means anything," said my father in his level ministry voice. "The best thing you can do right now is get him out of this situation. His letter makes it seem like he's been wandering around London with nothing but his wand and the shirt on his back."

"You're right. I-I'll go get him. He might be injured. He'll need—"

"James," whispered my mother, "just run, now. He needs you."

"Right." So I ran and immediately flooed to his aid. I didn't even wake Remus. Maybe I should have, but somehow I felt that was a breach of trust. Sirius's note just asked for me. Just me.

I'm glad mum had encouraged me to run. Sirius was just sitting, alone and trembling on the stool by the bar, and he was sopping wet. Had it been raining in London?

He saw me and immediately jumped up. "James, you're here. You came."

"What? Of course I came. You asked me to." I looked around and it seemed like my father was right. Sirius hadn't brought anything with him.

"Sirius, why didn't you grab some of your things? Why didn't you just take the night bus? What about your spellbooks and—"

"James," he muttered, and his eyes were directly pleading with mine. "I want to go home."

So, I took him, and I didn't ask any questions. I just brought him into my room, threw some dry clothes at him and let him sleep. Sirius may be all wrapped up and silent, but I doubt he's sleeping. He looks terrible. He looks driven mad and years older. I wish he'd tell me the details, but I know he won't.

The last time I saw him looking even remotely like this was after a run in with Regulus last year. Sirius likes to pretend that he's disgusted with his little brother, but his eyes trace the little guy's every movement.

Sometimes I'll see Sirius confront Regulus, and that's how it was last year. They were whispering by the shadows of the Slytherin hourglass, and something Sirius said must have ticked off Regulus because he stormed off. When I went to ask Sirius about it his face seemed stretched and somehow waxen, but worst of all were his eyes. His grey gorgeous (Even I can admit it. I'm a connoisseur of eyes, and Sirius's are lovely.) eyes didn't have their normal silver mist sheen, but gleamed the grey of bullets and an ash-filled sky. And his pupils were dilated, gaping like dark holes, like endless space.

I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent. Trying to coax information out of Sirius is an impossible task even when he's in a good mood.

"James," his voice was the croak of a much older and more miserable man, "he believes her. He believes all the lies she's taught him over the years. I thought I'd taught him better, but I don't know if I've helped him at all."

"Sirius, what—"

"He'll die. He'll destroy, if not his life, then his soul." In the back of his throat Sirius was making a horrible dog-like noise. A whimper of agony edged with his most fearsome growl. He's my best friend, but he has troubles I can't even begin to comprehend.

So, now that his eyes have changed again, now that his cries are back, I'll just do what I did last time. I'll wait. I'll wait until he's ready.

James

.

* * *

From the journal of Incoming Prefect Regulus Arcturus Black

July 19, 1976

He's still not back. It's been two days, and he's still not back. I guess I must just assume that my older brother isn't coming back. Mother pretends that she's overjoyed at his departure, but I see her watching the door, expecting him to come crawling back any moment.

I heard all of their fight, but I must meekly pretend that I'm mostly ignorant. That is, the easiest way to maintain peace with my mother. I hate confrontation. Sirius says that in that way I'm just like father. Sirius, on the other hand, thrives on confrontation, which is probably why he and Mother fight so much. I'm not sure what started their fight two nights ago, but I certainly heard most of it.

I should have been up in my room, but I wasn't. I was, I must admit rather irresponsibly, sneaking down to the kitchens for lake night cauldron cakes, and that's when I heard them: Mother and Sirius arguing in the kitchen. I snuck into the space beneath the stairs and listened.

"She's joined, you know," said Mother. "Your cousin Bella has joined and she's just barely out of Hogwarts."

"That's great mum," said Sirius in his most sarcastic tone. "Should I send her a small present now, or a big one at her wedding in a couple of months?"

"Don't you take that tone with me, Sirius. Bella shows respect above and beyond what is required of her. She's a girl, and yet she makes such a sacrifice. You as my son should be—"

"Do you think she'll have kids?" interrupted Sirius. "Because if she does I can't even imagine how she'll manage to raise the little deatheaters while she's off doing Voldemort's business."

"Don't you say his name you ungrateful little—" Mother was nearly shrieking.

"Do you think Rodolphus will raise them? I never thought of him as the nurturing type, and since the children will most likely not actually be his he might object—"

"You filthy child, you will not insult your cousin. I should be so lucky to have a son with half of her loyalty."

"Isn't that what you've been shaping Reggie into, your perfect pureblood child? If you had your way, you'd suck out every decent quality lingering within that little twerp."

I snuck deeper into the shadows, fearing that Sirius might see me if he stormed out the door.

"What are you talking about? He's a far more decent son than you. He understands his obligation to our family, to the parents who raised him. Your wild behavior will destroy our bloodline, this noble house in which you were so lucky to be born—"

"This? This house? Really, I was lucky to be born in this house. Have you ever spent any time looking closely at this house? It's dark, moldy, and falling to pieces. But I guess that's no surprise as this house reflects your mind."

"You disgrace, you utter disgrace," and she was really shrieking now. "I'm trying to help you. For years I've been trying to put you back upon the right path, but I fear now that there's no way to purify your traitorous blood."

"Good," yelled back Sirius, just as loudly. "Because I like it that way. I like my blood dirty and tainted. If it were up to me I'd drain out every single drop of my filthy pure blood and I'd replace it with mud. I'd embrace being a mudblood."

"Clearly, I was mistaken," and now mother's voice was an icy knife.

"Mistaken about what?" said Sirius, his voice equally cold.

"Bella, told me of the Dark Lord's desire to have young deatheaters helping him at Hogwarts. Not fighting, but merely recruiting, and training the younger generation in our ways. Bella expressed a desire to have you help in this endeavor. I thought that you might be willing."

"How could you—how could you ever think such a thing of me? I'm a Gryffindor. I'm no slimy Slytherin snake!"

"Oh Sirius," she chuckled. "You can masquerade behind all your indignant righteousness, but when you were little you took such enjoyment in trumpeting our beliefs. I'm sure behind the cocky little mask you put on for your Gryffindor friends, you're just as much a pureblood as I am."

"I-I . . . I can't believe—"

"Besides, the Dark Lord has followers in all the houses of Hogwarts, even among your precious little Gryffindor friends."

"You're insane. You're an insane old bitch if you think for a moment that any of my friends would join Voldemort, and thinking I'd join him, well that's beyond insanity, that's-that's—"

"That's your true nature. As much as you may like to deny it, Sirius, I'm your mother and I understand you pretty well. I understand all these games you like to play, and I understand the attraction that the violence and the power of the dark arts hold for you. The most powerful types of magic are all dark, and your defiance is just a pathetic rebellion."

"I-I I will-I will," and Sirius was almost speechless with rage. "I will fight. I will be violent, but I will fight deatheaters, and when I've killed them all I'll make sure that you're sent to rot in Azkaban. But don't worry, mum, when you die, alone, miserable, and even more crazy, I'll make sure to throw your corpse in a hole next to dear old pop. Though, he might not like that, seeing as you drove him to his early end."

Mother started to laugh, and even though I was used to her being in a good temper, I didn't recognize this laugh. This laugh sounded almost as crazy as Sirius accused her of being.

"Stop it!" yelled Sirius. "Stop it you mad hag! Stop it this instant!"

"It doesn't even matter. I've wasted far too much time on you, and you're right; I don't need you, I have Regulus. Truly I named you two aptly. I thought I was just following the family tradition of naming after celestial beings, but oh no. You, Sirius named for the dog star, are a dog, a mutt, a filthy unloved stray. When you run away, you pathetic stray, who will take you? Your friends? Maybe for a little while, but then they'll see you for what you are, a twisted tainted thing. You want to be good, but how long before you show how black you are, and then all your friends leave you?"

Sirius didn't say anything, but he was making a horrible gasping noise, as though he couldn't force out the words to combat her arguments, maybe because he was so angry, or maybe because her words had truly rattled him. She continued unrelenting.

"Then there's Regulus, the 'little king'. We didn't name him for the stars, and thank goodness, because he's turned out much better. He's just the kind of submissive child I wanted, a boy who is very aware of his responsibilities. He may not have your power Sirius, or even your good looks, but I'm making him a king over you. You're disinherited. Regulus, Regulus gets everything!"

"I don't even care. You couldn't make me take this house, with all of its mad elf head and its cursed artifacts, for anything!" screamed Sirius, finding his voice again.

"Fine. But I want you to know that all your efforts are for naught. I've been molding him for years, and now I've got him perfectly willing. One more year, and Regulus will join the Dark Lord. When that happens, think of what your independence has cost your brother. Maybe if you had been willing, I wouldn't have pushed Regulus so hard. After all, one son supporting the cause is more than enough." Then her voice took on a soft simpering tone. "But, it's such a pity that you're brother is so much weaker than you. I wonder if he'll be able to survive being a deatheater?"

I felt the floor drop out from beneath me. It sounded like she was expecting, no hoping, that I'd die, if only to spite Sirius, and Sirius heard it too.

"What are you? Do you have anything even resembling a mother within you? Are you trying to get Regulus killed? When I leave, and believe me I'm leaving tonight, Regulus will be your only son left. Do you want to destroy our family line?"

"Of course, I don't want Regulus to die. I'm only saying that if he does, the blame rests entirely upon your shoulders."

"Mother, I'd like to say my goodbyes," and his voice possessed a maniac glee. "Goodbye you filthy rotting house. Goodbye Kreacher, you sniveling pathetic excuse for an elf. Goodbye table, daddy died upon you, ah what good memories. But most of all, Goodbye Mummy, I won't miss you, I won't mourn you, and I wish you all the unpleasantness in the world!"

The door in front of me burst open while mother shrieked from behind, "Filth, scum, you've dishonored the entire family! I'll blast you off the tree, you filthy ungrateful brat! . . ."

Sirius saw me beneath the stairs and pulled me forward. He bent over, desperate and haggard, and whispered into my ear, "Reggie, if I'm right. If you have even a drop of decency left within you then don't do it. Don't let her use you, and drive you into becoming a deatheater. You heard her, didn't you? You heard how little she values you."

"Sirius, I—"

"No, make sure that whatever you do is your own choice. Listen to the good sense I know you have buried somewhere deep within you. I will not, I will never be held responsible for your death."

Mother soared through the door, still yelling, and Sirius dropped me. "I'm leaving," he said simply. "Bye Brother." Then he slowly walked to the front door, opened it, and proceeded out into the streaming rain.

Mother's face bulged red and purple, but the color started to drain away when she saw me on the floor. "Regulus, why aren't you in bed? How much of that did you hear?" Her voice cracked slightly at the end and for a moment she sounded terrified.

"Just the end of it, Mother. I'm sorry that I eavesdropped."

"Whatever you might have heard about yourself you need to disregard. My words were meant to hurt Sirius and do not reflect my true sentiments about you."

"Of course, Mother. I understand." I couldn't look into her eyes, they were too like Sirius's.

"I value you so much, Regulus. You are everything a mother could hope for, and I'm prouder of your accomplishments and your decisions than I've ever been of Sirius."

"Yes, mother." I wondered what she was referring to. I may have just been named a prefect, but Sirius got nine O.W.L.s. I may be an obedient son and a good Slytherin, but Sirius was one of the most popular students in Hogwarts. He cast hexes and charms that even the teachers couldn't undo. He was handsome, talented, and universally beloved. He was brave enough to yell insults to mother's face. Compared to Sirius I was just a sickly shadow of a son. The only thing I had the he didn't was her approval.

"Now, go up to your room. It's very late."

I started up, by the still open door caught my eye. "Mother, will he be coming back?"

"Probably," she smirked. "After all, eventually all Blacks return to the House of Black."

"Thank you, Mother," I said, then I ran upstairs, passed my own room and slid in to his.

His walls were covered in Gryffindor banners and muggle posters. Does he actually like all this muggle junk, or does he only do it to irritate mother? By his bed I saw a photo of his friends, the marauders. James Potter, the traitor pureblood, had his arm thrown across Sirius's shoulder, and they were both laughing. At least in the photo, it looked like mother was wrong. Sirius has friends like I've never had. I don't think they'll throw him out. I don't think he'll come back.

It's been two days, and Sirius hasn't even returned to collect a single possession. I'm sure of it now; he won't come back. He was cruel and vicious to mother, but without him this house feels empty. I guess that now I'm truly the king of this place, but what an empty lot that is when I have no subjects.

Regulus Arcturus Black

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* * *

**Review Responses:**

**Sydney: **Oh, thank you, thank you. There is nothing quite as satisfying as moving someone to laughter, except perhaps moving someone to tears, and (if that comes) I won't be attempting that for a while now.

**Aqua Skies: **I think what makes Sirius's death stand out is that he was the first character to die that I actually cared about (cause honestly . . . besides being handsome what did Cedric have going for him?). Plus, when he did die he was hit by a stunner, and so I figured _Hey . . . he's fine_, but then he fell through the veil and, poof! He's gone.

**Marlicat: **Well, thank you. I strive every day to be as different as possible.

**imaginedreamer: **Yeah, maybe I'm giving eggplant a bad wrap. The fact of the matter is that I've never actually eaten the stuff, I just think it looks terrifying.

**jessicats: **Did you mean James was being suck-upish when he talked to Lily? Because, if so, he was rather supposed to come off foolishly there. Poor James, needs to learn that until he starts treating and seeing Lily like an actual person and less of a goddess he'll never be able to form a good relationship with her. But, if James came off suck-upish in general, then I should probably work on that.

**Snakes Eat Cakes: **Thank you, I see Fabian as disliking James just because he's so protective of Lily. So he may be a prat, but a lot of it can be chocked up to him trying to bug James.

**Jamie K: **It's nice to know that my fictional plant brought you pleasure. Many thanks.

**A/N: ** So, thank you, thank you. I'll have another chapter up in a few days. Please read and review, and maybe I'll put in some of your suggestions. Think about the power that you possess.

_Droopy Breeches_


	6. Of Spying and Jealousy

**Author's Note: **Happy Fourth of July if that's what your into. If not: Curse you liberty! Anyway, here is another chapter. This chapter was, as most do, going to have both Lily and James's perspective, but it was getting rather long, and I wanted to do Lily's journal entry justice as a lot was happening. So, enjoy an all boys perspective chapter.

_Droopy Breeches_

_._

* * *

July 22, 1976

Dear James,

My mum says that I won't be able to have any sort of socialization until this house is spotless for her silly little tea party. Unfortunately, considering the size and relative dirtiness of this place, I doubt we'll be able to get together for at least several days. I wish mum would employ more house elves, but no. . . we must be frugal. If Fabian were here to help the process would go much faster, but as soon as he saw me pull out the doxycide he ran off to the Vances. I wonder if Emmeline knows what a mooching scab her boy toy can be?

Besides, Fabian says that recently you have a quite a crowd at your house. Give my best to Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew. I'd love to join you in all your antics (if not the quidditch) but my dusting rag awaits.

Yours,  
Frank

P.S. When I told her she was in town, Mum invited Lily Evans to the tea party. You seem to know her pretty well, could you give me a few tips on how to keep the fair maiden entertained?

.

* * *

July 23, 1976

Dear Frank,

It's funny you should ask about what Lily likes because we're not actually all that close. I asked Remus, who is her fellow prefect and knows her quite well, and he said that Lily is really fond of guys who voice their opinions passionately and don't let even basic logic change their mindsets. Lily also really digs quidditch players, but unfortunately you're rather hopeless in that area. You should probably just pretend to be a quidditch fanatic. Lily's very trusting, and I doubt she'll sense the lie.

But I guess I've only told you qualities Lily likes in her men, and not any actual ways to keep her entertained. Lily loves jokes, especially about muggles. Also, you could never go wrong with starting a food fight. Sometimes Lily pretends to be a stuck-up prefect, but there's nothing she likes more than a good bit of messy fun.

Good Luck,  
James

.

* * *

July 24, 1976

Dear James,

Thanks for your suggestions, but my natural personality is so at odds with the qualities that you listed that I doubt I could ever pull them off without seeming a total git. I'll just be myself and see how she likes it.

Fabian found your letter on my desk and had a good long laugh, that, and the little I do know of Lily Evans, gave me the idea you were pulling my leg. James, James, James . . . I'm hurt. Do you want me to fall flat on my face in front of such a pretty girl? I know that you're a decent bloke, so I'll just assume it was a harmless joke.

See you later,  
Frank

P.S. Do you think that Lily will wear that lovely sundress to the tea party? That would certainly liven things up.

.

* * *

From the notebooks of Sir Prong namely James Potter

July 25, 1976

I'll kill him. No, I'll kill them. I'll kill Frank, then I'll kill Fabian, then I'll kill Fabian again, and if I'm still feeling murderous I'll kill Fabian. Frank only deserves one death, as I'm pretty sure he's not being intentionally cruel, but Fabian should suffer many, increasing inventive, ends.

I saw Frank looking at Lily before, but now he's acting like he's serious in this plan to get her. Doesn't he know that I have dibs? I thought he was my mate. I thought only Fabian was pratty enough to move in upon Lily when she's so obviously claimed.

Remus says, that Frank's interest in Lily could reflect several things: 1. That Frank would like to get to know her better, as she will be one of his prefects next year. 2. That Frank is just teasing me because he's heard how sensitive I am about this whole subject. 3. That he thinks Lily is possibly the most dateable thing on this green earth, and he'd like to stake his claim.

I've thoughtfully considered all of Remus's theories, but, unfortunately, the one that seems the most likely is number three. I'm pretty sure that if Frank were just interested in getting to know her better he wouldn't have such a sundress fetish. And from what I know (or what I thought I knew) of Frank he isn't really the vicious teasing type. If this was Fabian maybe, but this is Frank, good, honest, decent as can be Frank.

So, I've been whining and fretting for several days now, and my friends are getting annoyed. I must say, I'm not that bad. The only person I seriously discuss these issues with is Remus. I just mention them in passing a couple a times a day to Peter and Sirius. Peter is so glad that we finally pulled him away from his sickly aunt that he'll listen to my woes with a fairly sympathetic ear, but Sirius will have none of it.

"Do you know what I think?" said Sirius, as he lay sprawled on my bed. It's been several weeks now since I got my lovely bed to myself. Alas, fluffy pillows I knew thee well. "I think that Evans and Frank would make a really nice couple."

"What! Sirius, that's base treachery there, that's just not—"

"Think about it. Frank's had some bad relationships in the past, but only because he picked the wrong girls. Dorcas was far too wild and adventurous for a stuck up twit like Frank, but Evans will suit him nicely."

"Okay," I said, "now you're just being mean. Is it the new best friend thing because that was merely a joke? I mean, I like Frank, but he's no you."

"That's good, I wouldn't wish being me upon anyone else," he mumbled.

"Sirius . . ." I thought about telling him how much I valued him, but 1. That would be highly corny, and 2. He still hasn't confided very many details of the night he ran away, and I felt that a discussion of the reasons behind his bad mood might bring up unpleasant memories. So, I just asked, "Why aren't you being supportive of my plan? You used to think that trying to ensnare Lily sounded like a very entertaining challenge."

"I just think you've wasted too long pining after a girl who's never going to like you back. Why spend so much time on her when there are plenty of other, even better, girls who would jump at that chance to go out with you?"

This is actually a good point, and something I've reasoned out many times before. It's hard to explain, but I guess the gist is that I'm not just looking for just some girl who'd be willing to date me. If I felt the desperate need for a snog I could get one, but I'm not just looking for a good time. I'm, it may sound immensely outdated, but I'm looking for the one, the girl who is absolutely right for me. Thus far, Lily's the best girl I've met, the kindest, loveliest, most . . . right girl for me. Bleh, that's badly phrased, but my answer to Sirius was even more badly phrased.

"It, it just has to be her. No one else will do, you know?"

"Hmm," grunted Sirius, "that's not really a highly convincing argument. Oh well, you can remain all determined, but I really meant what I said. I think that Frank and Evans would make a very nice couple. They're both smart, dedicated, and reasonably good looking, plus Frank's easygoing nature would probably have good influence on Evans's blood pressure."

"Sirius, you're crazy. Frank could never handle Lily's temper."

"But, since he's a pleasant fellow, I doubt that Frank would have to deal with her temper very often."

"I demand a second opinion." I spied Peter, flipping through a magazine. Next to him, Remus was perusing his _Standard Book of Spells Year Six_. "Peter, do you think that Lily and Frank would make a nice couple?"

"Well," said Peter, a nervous edge to his voice. "I've heard some of Lily's friends talking about how cute they think he is. Possibly, if they're interested Lily might be too?"

"But you didn't hear Lily actually expressing any interest, did you Wormy?"

"No, but I just thought—"

"Remus, do you think Lily and Frank would make a nice couple?"

Remus didn't look up from his book, but answered slowly and steadily, "I don't think that I, or really any of us, know Lily well enough to judge whether or not she would be attracted to Frank."

"Wait, I know Lily, and you know her even better than I do, we're qualified to judge."

"No," sighed Remus, "we know Lily in her classes, with her friends, and when she's dealing with us. We do not know, and have never had the chance to observe Lily with a boyfriend. Who knows, her tastes could shock us. Maybe she has a thing for troublemakers."

"Doubtful," laughed Sirius, "or she'd be much nicer to our boy Prongs, here."

"Or maybe," continued Remus, unrelenting, "due to the treatment she's received at the hands of many purebloods she'll only date muggleborns who she feels would best understand her situation."

"Well," piped in Peter, "if that's the case I suppose she won't want to date Frank."

"But, then she also wouldn't be willing to date poor, desperate Prongs, and he'd lose his reason for living," said Sirius.

"I was just suggesting that only Lily can definitively settle this issue and us arguing about it is rather fruitless," said Remus.

"Indeed," I yelled, hopping up, "we shouldn't waste our time arguing. This situation calls for action. Sirius, what time is it?"

Sirius glanced down at his scratched up leather watch, "I wouldn't count on this thing having absolutely accurate time. I was looking forward to getting a new one in a few months, but I doubt mum is up to acknowledging my birthday this year."

"Padfoot, I promise to get you a birthday watch when it rolls around, but I need the time now."

"Four fifteenish."

"No, if it's four fifteenish then Frank and Lily's date has already been going on for more than an hour. We'll have to run over there pretty quick if we want to have any chance of disrupting it!"

"Prongs," said Sirius, "I'm not sure in what twisted universe you'd call a tea party with the bloke's mother and a dozen other girls a date."

"James, how do think Lily will feel about you disrupting this tea party? Is that really tasteful?"

"Moony," yelled Sirius, "were you the one who got Prongs on this big tastefulness trip? He's been driving me crazy."

"Fine, Moony," I said, "I will act more tastefully. I will not interrupt the teaparty, I will merely watch Lily and Frank's interaction to make sure that their behavior remains highly professional."

"Yeah, because you hate to see people acting unprofessionally at teaparties," said Sirius.

"Spying on people is perhaps even more tasteless then interrupting their parties," said Remus.

"Except," said Peter, "if you're a good spy no one will even notice your un-tasteful behavior."

"Precisely," I exclaimed. "Peter, I love you. So, who's up for spying on Frank's teaparty?"

"Sure," said Peter.

"I'm bored, why not?" said Sirius.

"Sirius, remember that there are more girls than just Lily at this shindig. It will be a chance to observe the inner workings of gossiping parties, see what goes on beyond the curtains."

"Well, then I'm interested."

"Not in a million years," said Moony.

"Aw, come on Moony," whined Sirius. "Mary will be there. You know, pretty, pretty Mary."

"Still not interested."

"Wait," asked Peter, "Mary? Mary McDonald, Lily's friend? Does Moony like her?"

"No, but we're pretty sure that she digs Moony," said Sirius. "She'll sigh blissfully in his direction during transfiguration, and I've even seen her doodling his initials several times, except, unlike Prong's who puts his little LEs in snitches, she puts them in little full moons."

Moony looked up from his book alarmed. "No she doesn't. If Mary knew about that then she certainly wouldn't waste her time writing my initials."

"Wait, why does Mary doodle LEs?" asked Peter.

"Mary doodles RLs, Wormtail. RL like Remus Lupin," said Sirius with obvious annoyance.

"Do you think that, just maybe, your furry little problem bothers her as little as it does us?" I said.

"I doubt it, there are very few people as stupidly reckless as you guys out there."

"Come on Moony, come," Sirius put on his puppy face, but to no avail, Mr. Moody would not be swayed.

Ten minutes later Peter, Sirius, and I stood beneath Frank's parlor window all set for spying. The window was open a crack and I could hear the indistinguishable murmur of girlishness from within, but I couldn't pick out the specific voices of either of our targets.

"Sirius, I can't hear anything clearly. I think I might need you to lift me up closer to the window, but not too close; we can't let anyone see our faces."

"Suddenly, I'm struck with how much you manipulated me to get me here. You didn't say that the girls would be in a parlor with a window too high to get any decent peeks."

"Shut up. You were willing to come even before I reminded you about the girls."

"True, very true, but I'm not willing to lift you up so that you can get closer to that window."

"Peter, could you?"

"But James," whined Peter, "You're much heavier than I am."

"Not heavier, just taller," said Sirius.

"Peter, I don't need you to hold me there for very long. I just want to get a quick look of what Frank and Lily are doing."

"But then they'll see your head," said Peter.

"Not if I'm a good spy and I don't draw attention to the window."

"James," said Sirius, "that doesn't even make sense, and when we came here to spy did it never strike you than perhaps your invisibility cloak would be a useful tool?"

Sirius was of course completely correct, I'd totally forgotten about the cloak. Normally, I keep it with me, but lately my father had been taking it out to use on ministry business. He'd left it in my room this morning, but still, it had slipped my mind that I had it back. "Sirius, don't you think that this would be far too boring of a spying mission if we had the cloak?"

"Successful spying means that you get a lot of information not just that you put yourself in dangerous situations."

"Peter," I begged, "Let me get up on your shoulders I need to see in the window."

"Fine, but I won't be able to hold you up for very long."

"Speaking of dangerous," added Sirius, "if Mrs. Longbottom invited the usual Godric's Hollow girls it will be very dangerous for you if you're seen."

"No," I said, as Peter kneeled down, "the only girls who'd pose a threat of seeking retribution are Lily and Emmeline. Emmeline doesn't often come to these teaparties, and Lily is likely to be occupied with Frank."

"I thought that the point," said Sirius, "was that you didn't want Lily to be occupied with Frank."

"Get just a little bit closer, Peter."

"James you're really heavy."

"Maybe your mom was right about you putting on weight," said Sirius.

"Peter, if you get a little closer I can grab the window ledge and take some of the weight off your back."

"Okay."

Peter moved closer, and I grabbed the ornate windowsill. Inside the room I saw a table laden with tarts, scones, and various frilling looking tea things. A bobbing house elf whizzed around the room holding a floral teapot. I saw Lily's friend Mary McDonald seated next to the terrifying Emmeline Vance. It seems she had deigned to show herself at the party. I wondered if the motivation was a chance to exchange goo-goo eyes with Fabain. Ah yes, I looked and across from Emmeline was Fabian, the git. He was staring at Emmeline with this adoring eager to serve look that would've suited the house elf better than him.

On the other side of the room were three girls whom I wasn't quite as sure of. One of them was a Bones . . . maybe Katherine? Then, Emmeline's little sister, whose name is a total mystery to me. When Emmeline and I used to play together I just called her pudding face, as that was usually what her face was covered in. Next to her was a Goldstein whose name was, if I recall correctly, something ridiculous like Kumquat.

Finally, hiding in a window seat across the room, was quiet, little Alice Fenwick. I know Alice pretty well because her older brother Benjy was the quidditch captain when I was a third year. I'm always trying to convince Alice to play quidditch, since she's a deceptively powerful beater, but she stubbornly refuses.

So, I was staring at all these lovely people gathered for Frank's tea party, but, and I checked and rechecked, but I didn't see either Frank or his guest of honor. It would be one thing if just Lily was missing. That could mean that Lily decided not to attend this corny little gathering, but Frank was missing too. Lily was missing, and Frank was missing. Both were missing from the same place at the same time. Were they missing together? No, that was . . . is, ludicrous. Lily doesn't just run away from important tea parties, she's far too responsible.

"James," Peter called from below, "James, my knees are going to collapse. Have you spotted the targets yet?"

"You can lower me down, now, Peter."

He kneeled down and I slid off, rather clumsily, bringing both Peter and I crashing to the ground.

"Very graceful," laughed Sirius. "So, did you see Frank and Evans inside? Is it as you feared, has he gone and proposed to her already?"

"No, I didn't see that . . . Actually, I didn't see them at all."

"So, did it seem like he's not actually interested, then?"

"No, I didn't see them because they weren't there. Lily and Frank were both absent from the tea party. Together. They were absent together. What does that mean? "

"They might just have been in another room," said Peter.

"Good point."

"Or," added Sirius, "they've gone and eloped."

"No, they wouldn't do that," I yelped.

"Man, it's easy to get you riled up," laughed Sirius, "Did you know that when Snape came to Gryffindor tower at the end of the year he and Lily went off and snogged for about an hour."

"Shut up."

"Yes, Black, please do."

I whipped around and there was Fabian strolling towards us with a very nasty smirk on his face. Drat. Drat. Double Drat. It seemed that we failed in the whole spying endeavor.

"Fabian, nice to see you, ummm, well today, yes," I stuttered.

"Yeah Jamsie, it was a very pleasant surprise to see you too, I wasn't expecting your fat head in that particular window, but considering the guests at this party I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised."

"Wait, so Lily did come to this party?"

"Came, saw, left. Yup, she was here," Fabian's smirk was growing Cheshire Catish, I half expected it to hop off his face and do a little dance.

"Oh, why did she leave? I hope she wasn't feeling sick."

"No, not sick. She was . . . induced to leave, and, rather surprisingly, she did."

"Induced?"

"Yeah, when he wants to that Frank can twist the ladies around his little finger. The pointers I gave him were also quite helpful. I doubt even Lily could resist."

"Lily left? Lily left with Frank? Lily left?"

"Why are you so surprised, Jamsie? It's what you were panicking about just before I got here."

"Yes, but that was when everything was up in the air, and I was just panicking over the hypothetical. This is the bald-faced truth. This is—"

"Wonderful, isn't it?" sneered Fabian. "I'm so proud of the part I was able to play in it."

"But why would Lily do this, this type of spontaneity isn't like her?"

"Oh cut the arrogant bewilderment, Potter. Lily isn't your property, and if some other bloke wants to take her out on a date then you'd best keep your nose out of it because meddling in her business is one sure fire way to make Lily dislike you even more than she does now."

"Shut it, Prewett," barked Sirius, "You've been meddling in Lily's love life too, so isn't this criticism a little hypocritical?" Sirius pulled Peter up from off the ground and started to trudge away. "I'm leaving, James. If I'm going to waste my time I'd rather do it without gits like Fabian spoiling the fun."

"Sirius, wait!" but he walked off, with Peter following nervously. I stayed. I stayed because there were still a few things I needed to hear.

"Did Frank ask Lily out on a date, or are they just off hanging out somewhere together?"

"How should I know? I wasn't there for the actual moment, but the girls at the party told me they were talking on the balcony one second and gone the next. It seems pretty romantic to me, sneaking off together."

"So, you don't actually know anything." What a relief. As long as Fabian didn't actually see Frank get down on one knee. The mere fact that they were off canoodling somewhere was bad, but until I saw Lily sporting his pin, or wearing his ring, or doing whatever other twisted thing labeling thing muggles were into, I wouldn't panic.

"Jamsie, you forget that I've been staying with Frank. I'm pretty sure that a date was his intent."

"Don't count your phoenixes until they hatch."

"Phoenixes don't hatch."

I'd just been altering a muggle expression to prove a point, but he was right. Phoenixes, despite being birds, don't hatch. In my curiosity I babbled on quite foolishly, "Then were do baby phoenixes come from? Is there only a limited supply of phoenixes out in the world? Can they even have children? With creatures that live forever, if they could have children wouldn't there get to be too many of them? Then, where do phoenixes come from?"

"Quit your babbling and vacate the premise. If you stay much longer Emmeline might notice you, and she'll probably tell Lily that you came by. I promise not to, since I'd rather not ruin her day."

"Fine, I'm going."

As I walked off, I distracted myself from thoughts of the Lily Frank _date _by pondering Fabian and Emmeline's relationship. She is a terrifying harpy and he is a manipulative snake. I'd hate to see what their future offspring look like.

Okay, that was mean. Strike that. Fabian may be a manipulative git, but Emmeline can be quite nice when she isn't shrieking about rules, and when we were little we got along quite well. I only see her as such a harpy because I've gotten on her bad side so many times at Hogwarts.

Recounting the entire foiled spying trip has made me feel a little bit more relaxed, but a lot more nervous. I guess that's a contradiction. To clarify, I'm more relaxed because I'm not feeling murderous any more, but I'm more nervous because Fabian's words keep echoing through my head like a stalled record player. I don't know if Fabian can be trusted, but even if he was spinning the facts, all the evidence pointed towards Lily and Frank being on a date.

It's funny how the fact the Lily might date other men never seemed to occur to me. I guess I always had this sort of arrogant assumption that she'd just wait around until I proved to her that I was worthy of her love. I really, really miss the celibate Lily.

I wonder if she ever got jealous when I dated other girls? Admittedly, I never dated anyone else for very long because I came to the earlier discussed conclusion that Lily was the only one I really wanted to date. But it would be nice if she had been a little jealous. That way, in the future when we're in need of a topic to discuss over breakfast I can say "_Hey Lily, remember when I got all crazy because you and Frank had that one, brief, and bad date?" _and she'll go "_Yeah, but you weren't as jealous as I'd get over all those Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw bimbos you dated. Good thing we're in love now." _(The girls I dated weren't actually bimbos, I made sure to only date very pleasant people, but the jealously would lead Lily to think that way. Also, I only dated Hufflepuff and Ravenclaws because if you don't want a serious relationship it's best to date outside of your house.)

Oh well, I just need to stop panicking. I need to just wait until the phoenixes hatch before I count them. I need to be a calm tasteful person, a person who Lily can really respect. A person who, when she's done with this silly fling, she'll turn and see, and realize . . . yeah, that's the guy for me.

Tastefully Yours,  
James

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* * *

Hey Sirius, who were you talking to earlier in the fire?

**Why are you writing me notes in your precious journal when you could just talk to me?**

Remus is sleeping.

**We could belt out all those muggle songs you love at the top of our voices and Remus would still be sleeping. He's a rock, that boy.**

He's an island.

**Don't Simon and Garfunkel me. I introduced you to that song. The point is, a little whispering won't disturb him.**

But Peter is also sleeping and a pin falling could wake him.

**I personally don't fear the wrath of a woken Peter. Moony, on the other hand, terrifies me.**

So, how about we keep writing in here and avoid potentially waking either of them. So, who were you talking to earlier in the fire?

**Regulus**

What? Why would he poke his head in here? I get that I don't know all the details, but I was rather under the impression that you and he had had a falling out.

**Did you know that when you're writing you use the word rather in excess? It makes you seem **_**rather**_** like a doddering professor. Oddly, I hardly ever hear you speak the word, just write it.**

That is rather off topic. Sirius, what did Regulus want?

**He's an idiot. One second he's getting measured for his deatheater robes, and the next second he's sticking his head in fireplaces where he's not wanted just to check if I have enough sweaters to withstand the heat of the summer.**

Are you saying that he's trying to send you your clothes? That's rather decent of him. Was he the one who sent over Snuffles a few days ago, too?

**That's not all he's trying to send over. He's trying to get me all of my stuff. I appreciate the gesture, but mum is bound to notice and then it'll be his bottom on the boiler.**

I like that expression, bottom on the boiler, very descriptive. Is it yours?

**It might be, or I might have heard it somewhere. I can't really recall. The point is, he's trying to figure out a way to bring all my stuff here. I suggested sending it with my cousin Andromeda, so that someone who is already out of favor with the family can shoulder some of the blame, but he has this plan to bring it slowly, piece by piece, through the floo system. He thinks that if it gradually disappears mum is less likely to notice.**

To a certain degree I can see the sense in that plan, but surely once Regulus floos over your bed she'll catch on.

**That's why I said that he's only to send over the essentials: my clothes, my school things, and my toothbrush. Then, he got all huffy because he's sticking out his neck for me and I'm not taking full advantage of it.**

And he disappeared in a burst of flame?

**Yeah, but not before dropping off my copy of **_**History of Magic. **_**Thank goodness that I have something to read now. I thought I'd go mad without it.**

Really, of all the books he could have picked, it had to be that one. Still, it shows that his heart is in the right place.

**Let's hope that it stays there. I kind of like the little git.**

Awww. I'm rather touched. Do you need a hug?

**I think our feverish embrace is just as likely to disturb Peter and Moony as the whole whispering business. We can hold hands if you want.**

Yes, I rather do.

**Well, if we're going to be handholding we'll have to stop writing in your cute little journal.**

It's getting rather late. I think we've written rather enough.

**Now you're just doing the rather thing to tick me off.**

Yes, I rather am.

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* * *

**Review Responses:**

**lilyre: **Thank you. I loved writing that scene. I like to think of Sirius's mother as a clever woman who would know the best ways to hurt and manipulate her children. She's still a little bit mad, but a thinking madwoman is even more terrifying than a regular one.

**imaginedreamer: **Thanks. Poor eggplant, does anyone love it?

**jessicats: **He was pressured into it, and without the positive influences that Sirius has in his life he fell prey to his mother's schemes. Sad, but true.

**Aqua Skies: **Thank you, thank you. I wasn't about to leave the fight out. It was the most enjoyable thing I've yet written.

**BrokliManda:** I like using journals, notes, and letters because it allows me to pop in and out of the veiwpoints of many people. With third person writing, I often feel obligated to stay more neutral. Though, if you've noticed at times the journal entries are so detailed that they verge on third person.

**rubysun: **I have no words . . . you may have my first born child. Mind you, that probably wont be for a very, very long time.

**Snakes Eat Cakes: **Thank you for noticing the little details. I see Regulus as having a strict, rather formal relationship with his mother, so he tries to show her the proper respect. Sirius, on the other hand, never gives anyone the proper respect.

**Kristiball: **I didn't give him a backstory, I just fleshed out what J.K.R. gave us. She deserves your praise.

**A/N: **So there you go. Me leaving off Lily's perspective was slightly cliffhangery of me, but not a lot. If you have any theories about where Frank and Lily went or what happened be free to throw them my way. They might even influence my writing. After all, it has happened before . . . rubysun.

_Droopy Breeches_


	7. Of Crazy and Impetuous

**Author's Note: **So, here's the next chapter. This is another limited perspective chapter, in fact it's my first entirely one entry chapter. Its content may frustrate some, but that was sort of my intent . . . mwahahahaha. Anyway, please read and review.

_Droopy Breeches_

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* * *

My Prefect Notebook

July 26, 1976

One thing I love to do after I've finished my nightly ritual of getting ready for bed: washing, brushing, grooming, (All of which you'd think could be sped up by magic, but whenever I tried, while I was at Hogwarts, of course, the results were never quite as satisfactory.) and so on, is lie in my bed and ponder the events of the day that has just passed. I like to consider all my blunders, so that I may avoid them in future, and relish all the satisfactory moments.

Last night, as I rolled about in the bed I'm sharing with Mary, I found it really hard to determine which were which. The Longbottom's teaparty and the events that followed have blurred into a dream-like condition to the point where I can hardly even believe what happened to me, or the insane way I seem to have behaved.

Sorry, I should get right to the story, shouldn't I? I'm sure that someday when I'm looking back upon these notebooks I'll be very irritated at all the pondering of feelings I did without first recounting the events. So, here it goes:

I spent the beginning of the day in happy contented worker land. Mary's mum was feeling sick, so I even got the chance to pull myself away from toiling in the fields and run the register. Normally, this responsibility would go to Mary, but she said that she hated all the tedious small talk associated with register duty. I'm pretty sure she just wanted to let me have a chance, but I'm glad she did because it was just so fun.

There's something very satisfying about running a register, especially the old jangling thing the McDonalds own. When you type up the totals and close the drawer it makes such a satisfying musical ring, as if singing _You just made money, You just made money! _ And, even though I'm not a huge fan of small talk, the citizens of Godric's Hollow seem a really pleasant bunch. At least five kindly old women (and several possibly dirty old men) told me how pretty I was. I pretended to act all modest, but it felt great. What's more, I even felt like they might not be lying because I wasn't all dirty and manurey.

So, I worked up until two-ish when Mary and I ran upstairs to change for the tea party. Unfortunately, my earlier prediction was correct and none of Mary's dresses even came close to fitting me in semi-un-tartish manner. So, reluctantly, I pulled on a flowery blue sundress, which fell a few inches past my knees and had, if not sleeves, at least very thick straps. Mary said I looked great, and even though an addition of a shawl would have helped, I reluctantly agreed that I'd do.

We arrived at the Longbottom manor promptly at three. I felt worried that everyone would have already arrived, and Mary was annoyed that we couldn't even be a minute tardy. A miniscule tufty-eared elf opened the door and led us through the opulent splendor of the entrance way to a second floor parlor. I swear that one of the corridors we passed on our way there housed a portrait gallery. I wondered if Frank had a portrait in there, with his hand tucked into his cravat and him looking all regally out into the distance. Then, I wondered if it was arrogant of me to be so judgmental of the rich. But really, I can't even imagine living comfortably in such extravagance. I couldn't see a single comfortable nook or cranny, which I could've curled up in with a good book.

Five people were waiting in the parlor, so it seemed that a few people valued prompt arrival as much as I did. First were Frank and his mother, but they were the hosts, so obviously expected. Next to Frank sat Emmeline, who is Fabian's girlfriend and just a generally lovely person. In the corner were two younger girls, a dark-haired, and rather messily dressed girl who I guessed (based on striking facial similarity) to be Emmeline's sister, and a pale blond girl with a round face. The blond girl was looking down determinately at her drink as if desperate to avoid making eye contact with anyone. It was nice to see that someone else was possibly as nervous as I was.

Anyway, I had just finished making my survey of the room when Frank's mother spotted Mary and I by the door.

"Ah, good," she said, rising imperiously, "our new guest has arrived."

"Mrs. Longbottom, this is my good friend Lily Evans. She's staying with my family for a few weeks this summer," said Mary.

"Quiet, Miss McDonald. Miss Evans can introduce herself, and I clearly already knew of her living situation as I sent her invitation to your home. Now Lily, come sit next to me," Mrs. Longbottom gestured to the intricately carved, and very uncomfortable, couch on which she was perched. I shot a pleading look at Mary, who raised her eyebrows in amusement but offered no aid, and so I hurried to the proffered chair.

"Miss Evans let me introduce you to the company. You already know my son Frank, who is, of course, going to be head boy next year. It was he who informed me of your presence in town, and requested that I invite you." I shot a quick look at Frank, but he was looking down at the cake on his plate as if irritated at the poor pastry. "The girl on my other side is Emmeline Vance, who graduated last year and is interested in pursuing a career with the daily prophet."

"That's just one possibility, Augusta," interrupted Emmeline. "I certainly haven't settled on anything yet."

"Well then you should. Dithering about after your seventh year is a habit I detest. Take a trip around the world when you're retired. You have to seize opportunity in your youth." Emmeline looked slightly deflated, and Mrs. Longbottom turned back to me. "That girl over there is Emmeline's sister, Margaret. She's only a fourth year—"

"I'm going to be a fifth year, and I prefer to go by Maggie."

"Hush girl, I'm in the middle of talking to Miss Evans. Also, comb your hair, Margaret. I'm certain your mother didn't let you out of the house looking like that." Maggie shot a glare at Emmeline who shook her head very slightly as if to say _disregard it you look fine._ Which, as stated above, wasn't true; the girl did look a mess.

"And finally," continued Mrs. Longbottom, "that girl in the corner is Alice Fenwick. The Fenwicks are our immediate neighbors, and, despite her being two years younger than him, Alice and Frank have always been good friends. Several other people are expected, but they are deplorably late. I appreciate your promptness, Miss Evans. Not early and causing inconvenience, or late and being inconsiderate, just admirably, and exactly on time."

"Thank you," I said, feeling a small twinge of pride that my fanatic timekeeping ability was appreciated.

"But I must say that I find your dress slightly shocking for this occasion. Sleeveless might be appropriate for outdoor parties, but in a parlor bare arms should not be left to dangle like an ape. Mary," she said sharply, turning to Mary, who was devouring scones next to Alice. "Mary, how could you have neglected to lend Lily an appropriate dress? She's ignorant of the proper attire, but you've been here before."

"I-I thought that Lily's dress was more than appropriate for—"

"Well then, clearly, you lack the necessary sense of decorum for a girl of sixteen. I'm troubled by the trend in teenagers to completely disregard—" she was cut off from her tirade by the house elf's announcement of several other arrivals.

Mrs. Longbottom began introducing the new arrivals to me: Kathy Bones, Lemon (poor girl) Goldstein, and Fabian. She rambled on about the girls for a bit, but clearly berating Fabian was a favorite pastime of hers and she switched the focus off me.

I stood up in the pretext of getting a scone, but really to slip off towards Mary. By now Mary, the deceitful and abandoning girl, was in the corner hobnobbing with Alice Fenwick.

"Mary, you swore that this would be amusing. Personally, I just feel terrified."

"It gets amusing when Mrs. Longbottom leaves, just give her a few minutes."

"She's a little bit like judgmental whirlwind, just sucking you in and spiting you out, but only after you've been stripped of any lingering remnants of pride. Do you think she's always like this or does she just put it on for company?"

"She's always a bit like this," said the round-faced Alice, "but she amps it up for visitors, certainly. She's actually a really great woman, terrifying, but her heart's in the right place."

"Oh yeah," piped in Mary, "you've know her and Frank since you were little. So, was Frank always so adorable?"

"Mary!" I scolded. But, I was too late because Alice's rosy face was rapidly draining of color. It was an odd sort of anti-blush. I wonder if it still indicated embarrassment.

"I-I-I—I don't really remember. I mean, I mean we were just little kids, and we didn't actually play together all that often. And really, he's a good two years older than me. It wouldn't really be appropriate for me, who's just a fifth year to comment on the looks of my friend the seventh year headboy."

"Sorry, Alice. Please excuse my friend she's inappropriately forward."

"No, it's fine. I mean, it's a valid question, and yes, he's always been rather adorable." With that she turned and quickly headed towards the opposite window.

"Mary, you frightened her off. Couldn't you tell that she's really shy?"

"No she isn't. She's in Gryffindor just a year below us and I've gotten the chance to see her in action occasionally. She only puts on the shyness when she's not feeling up to dealing with people."

I could certainly understand that tactic, but I'm pretty sure that there was a little bit more to this than just an act. It would take a pretty good actress to pull off that drained of blood thing her face was doing. Oh well, it was interesting, but I wasn't feeling up to investigation so I just stayed and chatted with Mary for a while.

Around twenty minutes or so later Mrs. Longbottom excused herself for an appointment with some society she was a part of. Fabian had snuck off with Emmeline a few minutes earlier, so I figured there wasn't much to keep me here. I'd have a quick word with Frank, thank him for the invitation and express my pleasure in working under him, then Mary and I could ditch. Frank was leaning over the balcony on the opposite side of the room talking to Alice, so I headed over, and as I approached Alice quickly fled. Odd girl.

"Thanks for inviting me to this, Frank, I've been having a very interesting time."

"Interesting, doesn't necessarily imply enjoyable."

"Yeah, but I like observing new environments and learning new things, so I find any new insight enjoyable."

"Ah," he nodded then turned to stare at the balcony, he looked in deep contemplation of something, and I wondered whether he was about to sneak off the thing as Mary said he was so often wont to do.

"So, I'm really looking forward to your being headboy. Do you know who's the head girl?"

"What?" he looked startled to see me still speaking, and I worried that I was boring him.

"Who is going to be the head girl next year?"

"Oh, I'm not sure, but I got the vibe that it would probably be Dorcas."

"Won't that be awkward . . . considering your previous relationship?"

"Hmmm," he was still acting only half there, "Oh, no. Dorcas and I are still good friends. We never had much going on, anyway, and we parted very amiably."

"Well, I actually thought that Daphne Queenly was the more likely candidate."

This seemed to snap Frank from his reverie, and he did this rather unpleasant snort laugh thing. "Dumbledore would never make Daphne the headgirl with all the late night sh— never mind."

"What?"

"I just think Daphne's a little bit too irresponsible."

"Well so is Dorcas."

"Yeah, it does seem like there aren't a lot of highly responsible incoming seventh year girls. It's a pity you aren't a year older or you'd be a shoo in."

It's probably very nerdy of me to blush at a compliment about my responsibility, but I did. I felt like I was probably a nice tomatoe paste red. This somehow seemed to encourage Frank and he was suddenly all focused; I found it just a mite bit unnerving.

"Yeah, you're a very responsible person, Lily. I highly doubt I could ever convince you to go and do something wild and impetuous."

"What do you mean?" I said, slightly affronted because though I do like being acknowledged as responsible he was making me sound like a fun-leeching prude . . . which I'm most certainly not! "If I felt like it, I could do something wild and impetuous."

"I don't know, Lily. You don't strike me as the type."

Now I was just feeling insulted. "It doesn't really matter what type I strike you as. I could do something wild and impetuous at the drop of a hat, you just don't know me very well. Anyway, I didn't come to argue with you. I just wanted to congratulate you on getting head boy and tell you that Mary and I are leaving."

"Not out the front door you're not, not unless you want to evoke the wrath of my mother. When she leaves, and she'll only be gone for an hour at most, she has the house elf watch the front door to see if anyone is inconsiderate enough to leave early."

"That's just crazy. I'm a guest not a prisoner."

"Well, if you want to evoke her wrath then go ahead, but if you want to get out safe and sound you'll have to do something crazy and impetuous."

"Like what?"

"Like sneak off the balcony with me."

"Huh?" I spent a moment flummoxed and gaping at him. He had this big silly grin on his face like he knew that I wouldn't even dare to do something so _crazy and impetuous. _

"Frank, we're a good ten feet off the ground."

"Oh, only eight, and the ground's soft."

"Frank, I'm in a sundress."

"Yes, and it's very nice."

"I can't jump off a balcony in a sundress. It'll blow up and expose me."

"There isn't anyone to see you get exposed down there. Plus, if you lower yourself down off the balcony and let yourself drop the fall's only around five feet. If you can't even impetuously leap five feet I doubt you're ever very crazy and impetuous."

This is where, when I think back on my memories, I become rather confused. I'm not sure what motivated me. I mean his taunting wasn't all that intense, but I suddenly thought: _hey, why not? Why not do something crazy and impetuous_? So, I did. I climbed over the railing lowered myself down and then let myself drop.

I looked up in triumph to see Frank grinning from ear to ear.

"So, are you impressed?"

"Yeah, very impressed. You've gone and shocked the whole room." Then, with a smile he threw himself over and landed gracefully beside me. "So, where do we go from here?"

"Huh?"

"Well, we can't get back into the house without Jangles noticing us, and if we wait around here eventually my mother will find us."

"So?"

"So, are you still feeling wild and impetuous?"

"Sure," answered the strange new me.

"Then follow me," and I did. I suppose that once you jump off the cliffs of insanity, or balcony . . . but I digress, there's no turning back.

Still feeling hazy in the head, trapped within my new mindset, I followed him unquestioningly. We barely spoke, but occasionally he'd turn back and shoot me a nervous, but clearly attempting to be reassuring, grin. This went on for a good ten minutes until we were deep into the muggle shopping district of Godric's Hollow. It seemed like Frank's idea of wild and impetuous featured getting lost in the unknown world of muggles. Unfortunately for the poor bloke, I find very little truly fascinating about the muggle world. Familiarity will do that to a girl.

"Lily, we're here, first stop."

"Meh?" I looked up and lo and behold we stood directly below the awning of 'Fran's Bakery'. I closed my eyes and let the scents wash over me: flour dominated, but dancing above it was a splash of fruit, lavender, and (Ye gads yes) heavy, rich chocolate.

"Is Madam pleased?" I whipped open my eyes and he was shockingly close to my face, breath-minglingly close, flecks in eyes close, far too close. I shot backward and in a brief bewildering moment found myself face down on the sidewalk.

"Watch out for the cracks, Lily. Well," he chuckled and pulled me up, "guess it's too late for that now."

"That was entirely your fault."

"How so?"

"Do you have no sense of appropriate proximity? You were right by my face."

"Exactly." Frank's eyes were all twinkily, in their chocolate depths (mmmm . . . chocolate, only hunger would induce me to such a description) lurked a surprisingly devilish boy.

"Do you mean you were trying to make me fall over?"

"No, I was just acting on a whim, being all crazy and impetuous. Isn't that what we're doing here."

"Yeah, the only people who think going to a bakery is crazy and impetuous are diabetics and my sister."

"Try the food, then make your judgment," he said, pushing me through the doors.

The smell was even better inside: wildflower vases and old varnished wood mixed with the food odors and the crisp tang of a summer wind. No one appreciates smells like I do, I assure you. It may make me seem a bit neurotic, but I think that half of eating, and possibly the better half, is savoring, letting the not only the tastes slowly dissolve, but the smells whirl about you.

"So, are you going to show me this crazy and impetuous food?"

"You'll see. I have a plan, a big crazy and impetuous plan." He twirled his arms and posed, matadoresque. "You just don't grasp the nuances of the plan. Now, I'm going to get us some cake."

"Wait a second. I have very specific cake needs. I don't need cake right—"

"Shhh, Lily. Crazy and impetuous, remember? This is my show, just trust me on this." He turned and began talking to the stooped old woman running the register. I assumed she was Fran.

By this point, my head was clearing a little, and I was beginning to get slightly irked over this _crazy and impetuous _business. It's one thing to ditch a teaparty and jump off a balcony, and entirely another to trust strangers to pick out my food. As stated before, I savor food, but I will not just savor any food. I have very specific needs, especially with cakes. I hate dry cakes, the crumbly kind that suck all moisture from your mouth and necessitate consuming a liter of milk. Also, excessive sweetness is bad, bad, very bad. All those lemony meringue heaped cakes leave a bad sensation in the mouth, the slow ache of your teeth dissolving.

The ideal, at least my ideal, is a dark, dark, dark chocolate cake. My mother thinks it's a little bit perverse, but give me bitter and rich over simpering sweet any day. Chocolate dark as sin, chocolate in its purest form, ah sweet bliss. Then, throw in a dab of cream and perhaps some fresh fruit (or something exotic like sugared ginger or lavender) and that, that is my ideal cake. I, of course, don't need my ideal, but if Frank slipped up and brought me something white and fluffy I might just have to do the impetuous thing and shove it in his face. No, that kind of messy impetuosity is for the likes of James Potter, but I figured I'd at least give him an earful on the masculine selfishness of not bothering to even ask me my order.

"Lily," Frank whispered, his breath tickling my ear. "I've got our cakes."

"Don't do that!" I hissed. "If you invade my personal space one more time—"

"Lily, take your cake." In his hands were two cakes clearly situated on opposite poles of the cake world: a fluffy yellow beast heaped in thick white frosting versus a heavy chocolate cake that just might have been summoned out of my dreams.

"Frank, which one is mine?"

"The yucky one of course." I felt my heart sink, but as he sat down he slid my dream cake across the table.

"This isn't the yucky one. You have the yucky one."

"Are you mad," Frank laughed. "Your chocolate, chocolate, chocolate cake is so bitter that you have to take every bite with a swig of milk. You finish one of those cakes, and then feel like you've swallowed a cannon ball. I'd much rather have a nice slice of white lemon."

"Hah, are you crazy? Your lemon monster is gag inducing. That much raw sugar provides like a second of satisfaction, this flavor lasts."

"Only because it's so unpleasant that you have to scrub the tastebuds off your tongue to get rid of it."

"If you thought the cake was so gross then why did you get it for me?" Frank's swagger deflated mid swag and he turned quickly away, but not before I saw his face coloring. "The way I see it is that you were either trying to gross me out or that you already knew my cake preferences."

"Lily, it's no big deal it's just a cake."

"Just a cake," and I was getting so loud and indignant that the old shop woman glanced up from her frosting with a frown, as if to criticize the decorum of youth. "Just a cake! It's not just a cake, it's my dream cake. It has just the right ratio of whipped cream to raspberry to chocolate. The inside is wonderfully moist and the glaze is the darkest of dark chocolate. Only someone who knew my preferences very well could select my ideal cake. So, which one of my friends told you this? Was it Mary or did Marlene get tired of chasing deatheaters and decide to meddle in my life?" Then suddenly I knew . . . Fabian. "So," I said in my coldest prefect tone, "what else did Fabian leak about my life. I hope he knows that I'm equally capable of telling his sister all about his exploits with Emmeline. Her temper might even be worse than mine, I hope he's feeling up to it."

"Lily, Fabian wasn't telling me all your secrets. We were eating cake the other day and he just mentioned in passing that you have really specific cake preferences."

"A likely story!"

"Shh, Lily, quiet down. You are getting ridiculously indignant over me knowing what kind of cake you like and neglecting to eat an actual bite of your alleged dream cake."

"I don't want it if it was gotten through ill gains." I was acting all cocky, but it was a total lie. Despite multiple attempts to get a scone, I never actually ended up eating anything at the teaparty, and I was hungry. Now, faced with the cake of my dreams I'd never felt such a strong urge to devour.

"Lily, you're losing sight of being crazy and impetuous."

"And how exactly is eating cake crazy and impetuous?"

"Because we aren't going to eat the cake here—"

"Oh, exciting."

He plowed on. "We're going to exit this store as though we intend to eat at the tables outside, and then we're going to run away taking our as yet un-purchased cake with us; that's crazy and impetuous."

I gaped like a fish, like a monkey, like Gregor Goyle in Transfiguration . . . Frank, the kid Dumbledore thought decent enough to be headboy, wanted me to steal from an old woman.

"I am not robbing Fran."

"That's not actually Fran. Fran passed away, this is her sister."

"I am not robbing Fran's sister."

"Of course you're not because you're Lily Evans, hater of sugary cakes and prefect extraordinaire, destined to be Hogwart's next great librarian."

And just like that the mad fuzzy desire, the _impetuous Lily_, filled my head again. Blood boiled before my eyes, but I grabbed my cake (my wonderful, wonderful cake) and stepped purposely out the door. I took a few steps toward the outdoor tables, but then started dashing down the street. I was terrified and completely unaware of where my feet were taking me.

I heard feet pounding behind me as Frank caught up. He grabbed my hand, the one not occupied with holding my precious cake, and raced me towards a thicket of trees a block on. Once in the thicket Frank guided me to a small bench directly facing a stream. The trees were lovely, the stream was lovely, but all I could see was the cake in my hands, my ill-gotten gains.

"Wow," laughed Frank, as he clutched the stitch in his side, "you run like a fox. Fran's sister will never catch us at this rate."

"Does Fran's sister have a name?" the whisper came out flat and hollow. In my guilty state the words were bitter, and not the good chocolate kind.

"Ummm, I'm not sure. I think it might be Sophie."

"We just robbed an old woman named Sophie. I'm a felon."

"No," said Frank, nervously, "I think you have to actually be convicted before you can be a felon."

"Well, then I should be a felon. I'm going back. I'm going to return this cake to Sophie before she sends the police after us."

"Sophie won't send the police after us."

"How do you know? If my cake shop had just been robbed I'd tell the police! Frank, we're going to have a criminal record."

"I don't think a muggle criminal record counts for much in the magical world, and . . ." Frank took an extended breath, averting his eyes. "and don't get mad, but we didn't steal the cake."

"Yeah we did, running away without paying equals stealing in my book."

"We didn't steal them because I paid for them at the counter. Fran's sister wouldn't be a very smart bakery owner if she let people eat their food before paying for it. I was just joking, I didn't think you'd react so violently."

"Why, then why did you tell me we were stealing?" I was trembling with rage at this point. Frank had been manipulating my emotions all day, the smarmy toerag.

"It was just part of the game, you know? Doing crazy and impetuous things. Wasn't it a rush?"

"For me, maybe, but you knew that we weren't really stealing. You've also, clearly, snuck off your balcony many times before. I'm the only one that's been doing crazy and impetuous things. You haven't done a single crazy and impetuous thing all day!"

"Fine," said Frank, standing up from his place on the bench and walking towards the stream. "Fine. I'll jump in the stream, fully clothed. How's that for crazy and impetuous?"

"That stream is what, two feet deep? Pardon me if I'm not very impressed by you getting your trouser bottoms wet."

"Fine," said Frank, stepping towards me. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to do something that's really crazy and impetuous, like I thought I'd been doing all day."

"Really," closer again, "you want me to do something really crazy and impetuous?"

"Yeah, I want you to take a legitimate risk and not just trick me into thinking you have!"

"You don't care what I do even if it's insanely impetuous?"

"I dare you to!"

"Fine then," he said with a casual grin, and he bent over and kissed me.

It was thankfully brief, just a peck and not a legitimate snog session, but still . . . it was my first peck!

He pulled away from me with this monumentally corny grin covering his face, and so I figured I'd respond with a little bit of impetuosity myself.

I smashed my cake into his grinning face. Alas, what a waste, but for a brief glittering moment I felt utter kinship with James Potter. This smashing food into faces business is satisfying.

As I turned to leave Frank's arm latched onto my wrist. "Lily, wait. Lily, I'm sorry that was too crazy and impetuous."

"You think?"

"I'm so sorry. I honestly didn't plan that in advance."

"But you planned everything else: the luring me out of the party, the cake, the fake robbery!"

"Yeah, yeah I did. This was all sort of supposed to be a date thing."

"What!" I was blushing again, I was blushing, blushing, blushing, trembling and blushing. "This-this is not a date. Dates require planning—"

"Which I did."

"And consent. Dates require consent."

"I'd sort of thought your agreeing to jump off the balcony with me constituted consent."

"You goaded me into that. You goaded me into doing all of this crazy and impetuous junk."

"Yeah, I did . . . Would the excuse that I'm really terrible at asking girls out elicit any pity from you?"

"But you barely even know me; why are you so desperate for a date?"

"Because I want to get to know you better. Dating helps you do that."

"But this isn't a date!"

"But what if I want a date?"

"Then next time, how about you ask me on a date!"

"Fine!"

He turned his head away sharply and large dollop of chocolate fell from his face. First my shoulders started shaking, then my knees, then my chest, and soon I was spasming in laughter. Cackling of a truly unpleasant nature ripped from my mouth. The first time Marlene saw me like this she said I would make a truly excellent banshee.

"Lily," deep concern laced his tone, "Lily, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I've really put you through a lot of stress today."

"It's not—" deep breath, deep breath, "that . . . It's—" wheeze, cackle, wheeze, " It's just that-" giggle, gurgle, gulp, "You look so, so, ri-rid-ri-ridiculous."

"Well, right now you're looking a touch ridiculous yourself, Miss Evans." But he grinned, and went to the stream to rinse off his face, kindly allowing me a few moments to regain control of my body.

"So," he said, returning with his face all pink and shiny, "I'm sorry you wasted your cake. Would you like to finish mine?"

"Not in the least."

"But you're hungry?"

"Not that hungry, never that hungry."

"I'll get you a sandwich while I walk you back to Mary's."

"Thank goodness."

"What for?" he asked suspiciously. "the sandwich or escaping from me?"

"Both."

He did purchase me a nice large sandwich, and we chatted very pleasantly all the way back to Mary's. Somehow, I felt bonded by our shared experience, by this crazy and impetuous day. I get that a lot of it was a sham, and I'm still slightly irked at Frank, but (though I'd never tell him so) I had a really good time on our _date._

When he left me at the doorstep he kissed me again, but just a feather brush on the cheek, so I didn't feel impelled to punch him, just shoot him a scathing look. As he walked away he said, "Next time I'll make sure you know we're on a date before I kiss you."

"You do that," I whispered, then poof! the confusing but decidedly fanciable fellow vanishes, and I'm left reeling by a pot of petunias.

Mary, of course, has been pestering me since I got back for details, but I've been skillfully vague. I don't want to tell her any details because I'm sure she'd get all girly and dig for revelations about my feelings, and I have no idea what those are.

I certainly didn't have any feelings for him before this, but when he kissed me (The second time not the first, the first was too sudden, too shocking.) I'd suddenly been struck with the passing thought that snogging might not be so unpleasant as I've always imagined it to be. The key question here is, I guess, do I want Frank, my headboy, Frank Longbottom to be the one I try it out with?

Am I interested in snogging Frank? I don't want to go and snog the boy if I don't actually feel anything romantic towards him. But now I'm terrified because how do I even identify if I do feel something romantic towards him? And is it okay for a prefect to be snogging the headboy? He's in a position of power over me, what happens if our snogging turns sour?

It's at times like this that I really, really miss celibate Lily. I should just stay out of relationships. I don't know if anything has ever made me feel this uncertain before. Suddenly, O.W.L.s seem so nice and straightforward.

I thought the point of being crazy and impetuous was living without thinking about the consequences. I guess Frank was right, I'm not cut out for such behavior if this is the result.

With Loving Anguish,  
Lily

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**Review Responses (So, this will be my last time answering then in the actual chapter. Since I'm rather foolish, I just figured out that you can personally answer reviews via fanfiction's review response mechanism. So, I'll still be answering, it'll just be a mite bit more personal.)**

**imaginedreamer: **Yeah, after writing the Regulus entry I realized I wanted to explore his and Sirius's relationship a little bit more. You'll see more of Regulus as I keep rolling out the chapters.

**lilyre: **Yeah, Fabian is an enormous git. I honestly didn't intend him to be, but it became such fun to write him as such. Maybe I'll redeem his character eventually. Also, I would love, love, love to work in Molly if I could find a plausible way to do it . . . hmmmm. If you noticed, I did mention her this chapter.

**BrokliManda: **It's not a couple of floors up, just one. So, did you like it? Frank was both pratty and sweet about the whole goading of poor Lily.

**jessicats:** Stupid indeed. Super shocking aye? Alice is there.

**Awesomely Anonymous: **I indeed have cruel plans for both Lily and James's relationships. Your suggestion is noted and much appreciated. Also, for anonymous reviewers like you, I will continue to respond in the document. So, please, keep on reviewing.

**Demitria 837:** Thank you, realistic is about the highest compliment I can get, and the reason I wrote this story. I can't stand stories where a plot twist like an ancient Wizarding law decrees that Lily and James are betrothed or must wear handcuffs or whatever because how likely is that ? I also hate when Dumbledore is matchmaking, that's just creepy.

**rubysun: **Thanks oddles. Thank you, especially, for all your detail noticing. I love James's character, and do enjoy making him fall on his face (both literally and metaphorically). Also, thanks for mentioning the pancake scene even though it was a few chapters ago. That was one of my favorite scenes to write, and, though I haven't yet had the chance, I hope to explore both of James's parents a touch more thoroughly. By the way, I glanced at your profile (which I think you updated) and we have very similar interests. I'm so glad you love Chuck. It's so well written and I was terrified when it almost got canceled. It seems like good writing, and vivid characters are rapidly falling away from television to be replaced by ever more inane reality TV. Alas.

**mrsmunkee: **Thank you. I share many of your sentiments. I used to read fanfiction all the time, but now I can hardly bring myself to try new fics because I get so easily fed up with all the cliches or just really horrid warping of the characters. I, like you, would only dabble when bored. This summer, though, I am really bored so I decided to try writing one and I like how it's progressing. Thank you very much for reviewing.

**A/N:** The more you review . . . the sooner I update. Hahahahha. Anyway, the next chapter should be up in a few days if I keep up my lazy summer schedule. Much love,

_Droopy Breeches_


	8. Of Perfect and Pets

**Author's Note: **Many thanks to all who reviewed. You can't even imagine how much reviews motivate me. Last chapter many of my regular contributors didn't review, and that saddened me, but then I got a bunch of anonymous ones and that perked me right up. I guess it's sulky and silly of me to be so affected, but that is my way. Please, please, drop a few reviews. Your suggestions are exceedingly helpful.

_Droopy Breeches_

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August 3, 1976

From the notebooks of Sir Prongs namely James Potter

I told Sirius before that playing quidditch in Godric's Hollow was nearly impossible due to my aversion to hurting young children, but now that all my friends are here (and I suppose Fabian . . . the git) we have enough people for a decent game. Unfortunately, we don't have all the official quidditch balls, so it becomes more of a goal scoring oriented game instead of the traditional maim the seeker hour.

At noon, my friends and I started playing simple two on two quidditch: in which Remus sits lazily by the goal post (though when the ball actually gets to him he's a passable keeper) while I try to score against Peter and Sirius's sloppy tag team. It ends up being a rather good match as I'm great, Sirius is good, Peter is passable, and Remus doesn't care.

We'd been playing for about an hour when the first of Godric's Hollow's resident quidditch junkies showed up: Fabian with Emmeline and her messy sister.

"Hey Jamsie," called yon git, "I think some additional players could spice up your game."

Well, we were on my pitch and I was still a nice bubbling pot of resentment towards Fabian, so I said, "Sorry Fabian, but we were just about to quit."

"No you weren't James," barked Emmeline, "your quidditch matches typically go from lunch until it's too dark to avoid any bludgers. It still looks pretty light to me."

"Well, there are three in your group, the teams wouldn't be even."

"If that's the case," sighed Remus, "then I don't need to play anymore. I actually have some reading I'd like to catch up with."

"That's not necessary, Remus, you shouldn't have to quit playing just because they showed up."

"But I want to quit playing."

"James, it looks like we have more company, maybe the teams will be even," said Fabian pointing to the approaching Frank and Alice.

"But that's two people. We'd still have a problem," I barked.

"No," said Fabian, "I'm certain that Frank will refuse to play."

"Lucky," murmured Remus.

Alice bypassed Fabian and company and strolled right up to me. "Hey, James, can I join you for some quidditch?" she shot me a lopsided grin and I found myself beaming in return. Alice's pale hair coupled with her round face gained a sunbeam quality when she smiled. She was so warm and adorable that I just couldn't refuse her. "Yeah, Alice, we needed a person to balance us out."

So, slightly reluctantly, I reorganized the teams according to my preference: Me, Sirius, Moony, and Alice versus Fabian, Emmeline, Emmelines's kid sister, and Peter. This wasn't perhaps the most fair arrangement, as Me, Sirius, and Alice were all good and Fabian was the only truly skilled player on their team, but 1. I didn't want anyone I was really irked at on my team and 2. Fabian wouldn't play against his dearest Emmeline.

And yet, after another hour of play or so my team was only slightly ahead. Remus's total indifference hurt the team, as did the discovery that Maggie, Emmeline's sister, was actually a superb chaser. Now that I'd caught on to that I was having Alice whack most of the enchanted boulders we were using as bludgers her way. And yet, the ragamuffin was an excellent dodger. Maybe I should try to get her on the Gryffindor team.

"Hey, Potter," called a voice from the side of the pitch, "Potter, I'd like to play." I looked over and saw Mary McDonald, but sadly no Lily.

"We're full McDonald, sorry," barked Sirius.

"No, we're not," bellowed Remus. "This time I'm really getting out. Hey Mary, you can have my spot." Remus flew down and strolled towards Frank, who was reading in the shade. Mary stared at Remus's retreating figure for a few moments, but then collected his broom and flew up to join our team.

"Hey McDonald, where's Evans?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but she's busy right now."

I was slightly surprised at Mary's sharpness, normally, despite Lily often getting irked at me, Mary and I maintained a relatively cordial relationship. "Whoa, Mary, I was just inquiring. No need to bite my head off."

"Sorry, James, but I'm a little bit worried about Lily right now, she's been acting erratic for about a week."

"Erratic how?"

Mary looked uneasy; she was probably hesitant to divulge any concrete information on her friend to such an untrustworthy fellow as I. " Just, distant. Nothing much, maybe I'm just worrying too much."

"Oye, Potter! Quit flirting with McDonald and let's start this game," yelled his royal gitishness.

"Hey McDonald, let's destroy Fabian's team."

"Let's," grinned Mary . . . and we did, thoroughly. With a keeper who actually gave a rat's ear about the game being played around them our lead increased to monumental proportions. Fabian's fellow teammates became rather annoyed with his bellowing and it showed in their game. Every time Alice blocked one of Maggie's plays Fabian gave her an earful, at which point she would turn to her sister and give her a tongue lashing for not keeping her boyfriend in line. Emmeline yelled at both of them, and Peter at the goal posts kept his head low and tried to avoid the eyes of the rest of his team.

Basically, the game had devolved into a rather hilarious spectacle by the time my mum came out with iced lemonade and cake. We all flew down, and even Remus and Frank pulled themselves from their books. My mother is universally considered one of the best cooks in Godric's Hollow. Before settling down with my dad and having me, she had been a Honeydukes candy maker, and not one of the twisted ones who came up with all the trick sweets, but the inventor of such sweets as volcanic cauldron cakes and raspberry sugar quills.

Frank took one look at the platter of cakes that my mother laid on the table and turned away his back trembling with repressed chuckles.

"Hey Longbottom, you okay?" asked Sirius, downing a glass of lemonade.

"Yeah, sorry. I just remembered something funny."

"What?" I asked.

"It's no big deal, just something personal."

Frank was acting suspiciously. I stored it away for later use. Despite a few chats and letters since the incident I still wasn't sure of what had happened or the outcome of the whole Frank and Lily adventure.

My mother grinned as she watched Remus shove bite after bite of chocolate lava cake down his throat. "James, please make Remus come over to stay more often he does credit to my cooking."

Remus mumbled something between chocolate chunks that sounded vaguely like, "mnoot mneeemded it's fambumlous evem wimout me." Mum beamed and headed back indoors.

"Hey Mary," I whispered, looking carefully at Frank, who was still contemplating his cake, "Mary, do you think that Lily and Frank's da—thing has anything to do with her strange behavior?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. " How do you know about that? You weren't at the party and you certainly aren't in Lily's confidence."

"Ummm . . . Frank mentioned it." A total lie, but I couldn't have her reporting on the whole spying business what with Fabian was being shockingly discrete.

"Really? What did he say about it? Lily won't tell me anything, and I'm just dying to know."

"He didn't say anything beyond that he and Lily snuck out of the party together and were spending some time together."

"But even that in itself is shocking. I can't believe that Lily would really go and do something like that. Whenever we'd tease her about Frank before she always totally shot us down. Do you think they have something going on?"

No. No. No. I hope not. But before I could express this sentiment, though I would have worded it more delicately, Maggie, who was seated next to Mary, jumped in. "If not now, then they probably will soon. Don't you think that they would make a nice couple, Mary?"

"I've always thought that," she said nodding her head with enthusiasm. "He's smart, funny, good looking," and at this she shot a look at Remus. Weird girl, but maybe Sirius was right about the whole fancying Moony bit. "Plus," she continued, "I think that he has a personality that would go really well with Lily's; he'd be the ice to her fire."

I don't know why people are always trumpeting around that cliché. If fire and ice were literally dating, they would destroy each other. The ice would melt into a nice puddle and then squelch the fire, and ultimately all that would be left is ashy mud. It would much nicer for the fire to find some hearth and the ice to find a freezer. These raw elements need care and a place to be loved. I'd be that place. I'd be her hearth, much better than Frank taking out all her spark.

Mary had continued while I was lost in my thoughts. "Yeah, but I don't think anything can come of it immediately because Lily's leaving."

"WHAT?!" yelled Frank and I in unison.

Mary blushed; Frank had clearly been eavesdropping on her gossip. "I-I, Yeah. That's why she's busy today. She's packing up her bags so that my family can drive her home tomorrow morning."

"That's not necessary," said Frank, "she could just use my fireplace and go by floo. It'll save her hours off her journey."

"But you forget that Lily is muggleborn. Her home isn't hooked up to the floo network."

"Still," said Frank, his brow creasing, "This seems sudden. She hasn't been here very long."

"She's been here a full month, and I think she really wants to spend the rest of the summer with her family," said Mary.

"But Lily doesn't get on very well with some of her family. Isn't that why she came here in the first place?" piped in Fabian.

"I thought so," sighed Mary, "but she insists on going home, and who am I to argue."

I sat frustrated. I couldn't believe that Lily was leaving already. Her stay in Godric's Hollow was supposed to be my opportunity to spend more time with her. Yet, I'd only actually talked to her that one time at the store. Since then, I'd seen her a few times working in the gardens at Mary's, but I'd tried to do the _tasteful_ thing and not bug her. Now she was leaving, and I'd wasted all my time. Blast my stupid tastefulness.

Across the table Frank looked similarly troubled, so Fabian, git that he is, swooped in for the kill. "Speaking of Lily, I'd like to finally know what happened after you snuck away from dear Augusta's party."

It seemed like everyone was similarly interested, I certainly was, because we all turned intently towards Frank.

"Umm—I don't know if I should. I mean it's private, you know?"

"Oh," said Fabian smugly, "did you and Lily get up to something that you feel obligated to keep private? Frank, I didn't know you had it in you."

It's odd; I wasn't seeing red, though I think that's how the emotion would be described, but my vision had blurred and fixed to the point where all I saw were the pastel blobs of the flowered table cloth.

"No," said Frank, "Nothing like that. We just went to a bakery and got cake, and . . . then she smashed the cake it my face."

I looked up sharply. That's my girl. But what did that indicate? Though I applauded her for the act, I doubted that Lily would do such a thing unless thoroughly provoked. What had Frank, the cad, done to her?

Fabian was laughing wildly. "What did you do to piss her off, Frank? I'd hardly think Lily would approve of such a wanton waste of cake."

"I—I was just being a git. It's no big deal; I deserved it."

"So, then," said Emmeline, "I guess you and Lily are through."

"Not necessarily, she gave me permission to ask her out later. I'm not quite sure what that means, but it's not a definitive no."

"Permission to ask her out?" said Sirius incredulously. "Evans seems to be really making you jump through the hoops. Sure you're up to it?"

"Hopefully, and if anything comes of it, then it's worth it. She's an amazing girl."

At this point Alice jumped up and squeaked, "Bathroom!" She'd been totally silent throughout the conversation and I'd forgotten she was there, but I shared her fleeing sentiments.

"I'll go with her," I said.

"I doubt Alice requires assistance," sneered Fabian.

"What I mean is I need to go inside and-and-" I glanced at the table, "and get more lemonade. I'll be back in a minute."

I dashed after Alice, desperate to escape before Frank dished out any more details. Maybe I'd regret missing them later, but I could hardly stomach it now. Lily had given Frank permission. How much farther was permission from an actual acceptance? No, no, no. Their date was supposed to have gone badly. Lily was supposed to wait until I was worthy of her. No, no, no. What else had Frank done to Lily on their date? I saw the image of them seated at a table for two swimming before my eyes: Lily throwing back her fire stream hair as she laughed, Frank taking her hand, Frank staring into her grass green eyes. I swatted it away. Improbable, it was highly improbable that their date could have gone that well if Lily had then smashed some cake into his face.

Inside, Alice was seated at my kitchen table, and all the sunshine had drained from her face. I slid into the chair next to her and waited. I've said this before about Sirius, but I think it's a good tactic with many people: just wait in silence, if they want to, they'll talk.

"I hate it," murmured Alice, low and monotone. "I hate it. I hate how everyone loves her. Frank loves her. Fabian loves her, but she wouldn't give him the time of day, so he moved onto Emmeline. All of them, all of the boys love her." She looked up at me with piercing eyes. "Even you love her. Anyone who's not daft sees the way you drool in her wake. Why James? Why do you all waste your time with her? She has everything, the love of everyone, but she doesn't even care."

"Alice, I think you're exaggerating a little."

"Fine. She might not have everyone, but she has enough. She has Frank. She has him." Her face drained of color and she looked down into the whorls of the table's wood.

"Alice . . ." I reached to touch her arm. I wanted to convey understanding because I, of course, felt identical emotions to her. But she knocked my hand away.

"Why didn't you tell him?"

"Huh?"

"Frank is dense. He must be the only person in Hogwarts who didn't know about your feelings for her. If you had mentioned your feelings, just once, if you had told him he wouldn't have acted. Frank values your friendship too much to hurt you, but you never bothered to tell him. You never told him and now it's too late. Now he's caught in her net. And . . ." Alice's blue eyes wavered close to tears, "and Mary's right. They're perfect for each other. Now, neither of us have any chance."

I consider myself a pretty optimistic person, but I admit Alice's words hit me hard. Suddenly, the image of Lily and Frank was back, but this time they were locked in an embrace, this time their hands bore bonding rings, this time I saw the rightness of the picture. Alice was right; Mary was right; Sirius was right; Everyone was right. They were perfect for each other. Maybe, this was why I hadn't been able to interfere earlier. I'd jokingly discouraged Frank, but I never told him to back off. Why hadn't I told him? Why hadn't I?

"Alice, they aren't even dating right now. We're panicking a mite bit early. And . . . and if they are right for each other," The words tasted bitter. "Even if they are right, then you'll—we'll find someone else. We're teenagers no need to get all despairing."

"But I don't want someone else. Frank is right. I want Frank."

"I know." We sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Alice gave me a long hug and slipped away out the side door. I didn't feel like going back to the pitch, but I dragged myself back to avoid suspicion. I told them Alice had gone home sick. That combined with the bad will still lingering among Fabian's group effectively ended our quidditch game.

Mary and Fabian and company split off to their respective houses. The marauders and I cleaned the pitch, but while I sorted the equipment Remus pulled me aside.

"James, you look terrible."

"Remus, is everyone right? Are Lily and Frank just perfect for each other?"

"James, you already asked me this question, and I gave you the same answer I'm going to give now: we don't know what Lily's thinking. We aren't qualified to answer this question."

"I know you said that it would be a slow process, winning Lily, that it couldn't be done with magic, but what if it can't be done at all? What if I'm striving for something that's already gone?"

"Then give up, James. Don't waste your life or your energy engaged in a fruitless effort. But, if I were you I wouldn't be so quick to assume that your efforts are fruitless. It's always darkest before dawn."

"I'm sick of muggle clichés." And I left him and walked inside.

I'm a fellow who likes to laugh. I'm a fellow who has rather a lot of trouble taking anything seriously. Yet now, I'm the fellow who feels like he has bruised ribs. I'm tired of this ache. I wish I knew a way to make it leave. I wish there was magic for that.

Tastefully Yours,  
James

.

* * *

August 2, 1976

Dear Lily,

How's my dearest little carrot doing? I know that you're having fun with your friends, but your father and I miss you every day. Petunia has gotten a job in a flower shop, which is just perfect considering how your father and I named you two, our little flowers. Because of her job, we don't see as much of Petunia as we'd like. It seems like she's either off at the flower shop or off with that boyfriend of hers.

The boyfriend is actually the reason I'm writing to you. Petunia's boyfriend proposed to her a few days ago and she's just accepted. You can imagine how excited your father and I are. I get to plan the summer wedding I've always dreamed of, for Petunia plans to get married in June next summer.

If possible, I'd like you to come home soon and meet Vernon, Petunia's fiancé. He's always wondering why you're not around. I've told him you're with friends, but Petunia must have given him a confusing account of you because sometimes when he mentions you it sounds like we've sent you away for medical help. It would be very nice if you could come meet him and show him what a lovely person you are. I want us all to be a big happy family one last time before we lose Petunia for good. I get that you and Petunia often don't get along very well, but please come and just try your best. I miss you very much.

Love,  
Mum

.

* * *

My Prefect Notebook

August 3, 1976

Four days ago the Daily Prophet had an account of the killing of three muggle families. I'm used to that kind of news, horrid as it is, but what really rattled me this time was the location: Mill Glen, London. Mill Glen is just across the street from Spinner's End. These attacks were not three miles from my house. The Prophet said that the killings were of random muggles, but if there are deatheaters in that area than how much more likely are my family to get attacked being connected to a mudblood like me? I will not be responsible for anything happening to my family.

Thus, my mother's request that I come home to meet Tuney's boyfriend was surprisingly welcome. As much as I'd rather not deal with Tuney at her most sickly sweet, I won't feel easy until I can see for myself that mum, dad, and Tunia are safe.

Also, as guilty as this makes me feel, I'll be glad to get out of Godric's Hollow to have a break from Frank for a while. I still have no idea how I feel about the whole Frank issue. But until I make up my mind, I'd rather not keep running into his mother. I never noticed before the party how often she comes into McDonald's Grocers. You'd think that once or twice a week would suffice, but apparently Mrs. Longbottom insists on fresh produce daily.

Every time I see her imperiously strolling in here, I feel the need to hide behind the largest vegetable display available. I have no idea how much she knows about the whole Frank and I sneaking off debacle. From what Mary told me of her past behavior I get the impression that she normally responds very badly to Frank's antics: what with all the scone throwing. If Frank had been telling the truth and his house elf really watched the front door, then Mrs. Longbottom must know that I'd snuck off with Frank. Did that mean that she would be equally irate at me? Who knows, but for now I feel safest avoiding her.

Yesterday, Frank himself popped in trailed by Alice and Fabian. As much as I would like to get in a few words with Fabian, I wasn't up to seeing Frank. So, I hid in the store closet, where we keep the garden tools. I know . . . irony of irony. I, the great hater of mischief in closets, found myself hiding within one. Mary, who seems upset with me for all of my evasiveness, told me that Frank lingered for about ten minutes before leaving with his produce. It's nice to know he cares, but I can't face it right now.

Still, I was feeling sad that I'd missed the opportunity to say goodbye to Fabian. It'd been nice to get the opportunity to see him a few times this summer. Admittedly, he'd spilled some of my secrets to Frank, (Well . . . I guess not secrets. But he'd certainly gossiped about me with him.) but I really appreciate all that he's done for me over the years. It's definitely due to Fabian's charm tricks that I managed to scrape off my O. So, when Mary told me that she knew for a fact that Fabian was at Emmeline's house without Frank I decided to run over there quick to say my goodbyes.

I took a back road that cut through some fields, but was decidedly more scenic (Plus, totally deserted.) than the main route. It was really a lovely day, or the lovely conclusion of a lovely day. The sunsets in the clear forest kissed air of Godric's Hollow never failed to astonish me. I mean, my neighborhood still had sunsets, but the air was so much cleaner here. I knew I'd have to leave, I even welcomed it, but still . . . I'd miss the beauty.

As I walked along the lane, I caught a brief glance of James Potter and Sirius Black through the trees. Yet when I turned into the grove in which I'd seen them I couldn't see Black anywhere, only Potter and a large black dog. My foot crackled against the underbrush and Potter jumped up from where he'd been kneeling next to the dog.

"Lily—um, em, Evans, good to see you here."

I looked all around the grove, but I really couldn't even see a trace of Black. I swore I'd seen him. "Potter, where's Black?"

Potter paled and shot a glance at the dog. "Ummm . . . I'm pretty sure he's back at my house. Why? Do you need him?"

"No, I just swore I saw him. Are you sure he wasn't here?"

"Umm-ah- no. Just me and . . . " he took a long pause staring at the dog, "and Padfoot. Me and my dog Padfoot."

The name struck me as familiar. Had I heard Potter talking about his dog before? Then I had it: it was one of the stupid nicknames he and his friends used, the one for Black. "Isn't Padfoot what you call Black?"

"Yes well—that's because Sirius acts quite a bit like Padfoot, who is my dog." Potter was glaring at the dog and mussing up his hair. It's a habit I really detest because I know that he does it just to attract attention, and also because it makes him look like he just got struck by lightning. It's so stupid looking that I'm not quite sure why he does it so often.

I felt something wet on my hand and looked down to see the great dog nosing it. I have a soft spot for pets, even if the poor beast was Potter's; I gave him a good scratching behind the ear. The dog seemed to love this, (I bet Potter never showed him much affection) and he jumped up planting his great paws on my shoulders and began to lick every inch of my face. I appreciated the affection, but the dog was so massive and enthusiastic that I found myself toppling backwards.

Potter dashed forward and heaved Padfoot off me. "Bad Dog! Bad Padfoot! Get off of Lily right now!" Potter pulled me up and shot Padfoot a glare of intense annoyance. "Sorry Evans, I'm not sure what's come over him. He knows better than to behave this way. I'll make sure he's properly punished for it later."

This made me feel quite alarmed. What kind of cruel boy was Potter if he'd punish his dog for simple exuberance? "No need to do that; he was just being a dog."

"He certainly was," Potter's voice still contained a touch of the annoyance, but he sighed and released the dog's collar. Padfoot ran back over and rolled on the ground beneath my feet. I bent to scratch his belly.

"Um . . . Lily—Evans, do you have any pets? You seem to be quite good with them."

"No, I don't. I used to have a cat, but he died."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Potter looked alarmingly sincere in his apology, especially over such a small thing.

"It's okay. It was a long time ago. But somehow, somehow I feel like getting a new pet, even if I want one, would dishonor his memory."

"How did he die, the cat? If you don't mind-I mean, you don't have to tell me."

"He was hit by a car. It's funny; he was such a smart cat. He'd always stop on the curb and look both ways before crossing. I don't know how he could have been hit. It was rainy that night, maybe he couldn't see the car in the rain. Maybe the car was speeding. Maybe he just didn't check. Who knows? But I can't even imagine replacing him." I'd been rather alarmingly frank in my story, and I felt my face coloring. Why was I divulging this to Potter of all people?

"When my first owl died," he said, gazing at me steadily, "I felt like I could never find a replacement. But then my father bought Hermes, and he was wonderful. It wasn't replacing my first owl, I still had all of the sadness of his death, but by getting a new owl I committed to still living life to my fullest. I don't think the dead, even if they're owl or cats, would approve of us holding ourselves back in their memories, not if they truly love us."

I gaped at him. Potter's statement was beautiful and wise in a way I'd never expected from him. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as I stared into his earnest face. A feeling like I might have to change my mindset, like I might have to reevaluate everything I thought about James Potter. For here, gleaming in his eyes, lurked not even a trace of the pestering git I was so well acquainted with.

Suddenly, I found myself just as desperate to hide as when I'd seen Frank yesterday. I jumped up, startling Padfoot whose head was resting on my knee. "Thanks, Potter, I've got to go. I was just on my way to visit somebody."

"A goodbye visit?"

"Huh? How do you know that?"

"Mary mentioned it when she came to my house for some quidditch today. I'm sorry you have to leave so abruptly. Everything's alright, right?"

"For now at least," I said and I remembered the Prophet article. "I hope it still will be when I get back."

"The aurors are working really hard to protect muggle families. My dad says they've been applying simple security nexuses around houses in areas that have experienced previous attacks. Your family will be safe."

I looked up startled. He'd been able to see right into the heart of my worries. Was this another unnerving trait to be associated with the new Potter? I felt the urge to flee again. "Thank you. Bye Potter. Bye Padfoot." And I dashed out of the grove.

As I panted, back on the main trail, I heard Potter's whisper carrying through the trees, "Honestly, you were all over her, practically snogging her. Plus, you made her suspicious. You are such a prat sometimes. I can't believe I'm letting you share my bed, you traitorous mutt." After that I heard no more since it seemed Potter was moving in the other direction.

But really, who talks to their dog that way? Maybe my reevaluation of Potter was wrong. If not a prat, he was at least seriously addled: getting mad at the dog for snogging me. That was just bizarre.

Fabian had left Emmeline's by the time I arrived there, and I certainly wasn't going over to the Longbottom's to see him. Thus, I just stomped back to Mary's. It seemed nothing had come of my trip but a most confusing and awkward run in with Potter. Really, of all the people I'd thought of saying goodbye to, he was probably the last on my list. Yet, he was the only person I had. Weird, but certainly not as weird as the whole dog incident. Does Potter really let that giant, hairy beast sleep in his bed?

Love,  
Lily

.

* * *

**A/N: **Questions, comments, whatever. Please toss it my way. For example, does anyone have any suggestions as to what Frank's next step in wooing Lily should be?


	9. Of Pudding and Pudding Face

**Author's Note: **Huzzah! I've put out another long chapter. This is also the last chapter before I send them off to Hogwarts again. Anyway, thanks to all my readers and reviewers. Reviews make me jump up and down with joy. Please drop a few words, I always appreciate it, and I will respond through the response links.

_Droopy Breeches_

_._

* * *

My Prefect Notebook

August 5, 1976

I knew Petunia's taste in men was bad, but Vernon is just repulsive. He's dim-witted, slightly rotund (and growing I'm sure of it), and utterly obsessed with his bland career prospects. He came to our house for Mum's planned family dinner, and I can't even comprehend what drew Petunia to him. Even for her, even as desperate as she is to get out of the house, how could she?

Vernon arrived half an hour earlier than we expected him to, so dinner wasn't even remotely ready yet. Petunia and Mum fussed over the preparations in the kitchen leaving my poor father and I to entertain him, and what an unpleasant fellow he is: tall and bulgy with cheeks that bear the constant flush of two too many cups of mead. What's more, he was wearing a suit of impeccable tweed that made my father in his casual slacks and button up shirt seem sloppy and me in my jeans and t-shirt seem slatternly in the extreme. The way his beady eyes pierced me as we sat in the awkward silence of the parlor also made me feel rather like street trash.

Dad engaged Vernon in a few minutes of conversation about his work and stocks and bonds, but Dad certainly isn't a naturally talkative fellow, and he soon retreated into the shelter of his paper, leaving me fully open for a frontal assault from Vernon. I'd been gardening right before he arrived (ah how I miss Mary's house) and my jeans certainly showed the strain; I was green about the knees, brown about the feet, and red about my calf where I'd torn my jeans and cut myself on a loose screw. (Heavens, this description does really make me seem slovenly. I would've had time to clean myself up if only Vernon had arrived on time.) Vernon eyed my torn pants while sucking on his plump fish lips.

"Petunia mentioned that you go to an interesting school, Lillian. Would the administrators of your school really let you dress in such a . . . manner?" as he spoke spittle caught in the caterpillar mustache trembling above the lips.

"I go by Lily; Lillian isn't even my name, and what has Petunia actually mentioned about my school?" I highly doubted it was anything remotely resembling the truth.

Vernon shot a nervous glace at my father, but seeing that he was buried in his paper continued softly, "Only, that following a slew of shocking incidents your parents were forced to enroll you in a very isolated boarding school. I've investigated, but have been unable to find any mention of the boarding school, Hogwarts, anywhere. I can only assume that this school is located in some very remote corner of the world or that Petunia was hiding your real background from me."

"Even if that's the case, why should where I go for school have any impact on you?"

"I'm a respectable man, little missy, the youngest assistant manager at Grunnings and rising every day. My position is important, and many in my company would gladly see me fall on my face. If something about you—If my career could be put in jeopardy due to the criminal past of my fiancé's sister I would like to be informed about it."

"I assure you Vernon," I said calmly, "no matter how hard they look no one at Grunnings will ever dig up any dirt about me or Hogwarts."

"There is no way you can be sure of that. I assure you, the men and women of Grunnings are more resourceful than you could possibly imagine. For my safety, and in order to secure your sister's future prospects, I'd like you to be fully frank with me about what you spend your time during the school year doing."

"What I do during the school year is none of your business," I whispered softly but with as much venom as I could muster. "If I am engaged in any criminal activity, and I promise you I'm not, I certainly wouldn't perpetrate such acts anywhere near your company. I have far too much respect for the working men and women of Grunnings to ever do that. Besides . . . " I said with a casual flick of my hair, "there's no real money to be made from robbing drill companies."

Vernon's eyes swelled to match his fish lips, and my father coughed rather hard behind his paper concealing his laughter. Just as Vernon began to attempt stuttering replies Petunia burst into the room. Seeing Vernon seated next to me, her mouth hardened to a granite chill. "Dinner's ready," she crowed, grabbing Vernon by the arm and pulling him out of the room.

"Lily," murmured my father, his eyes the mirror image of mine twinkling, "it might just be me, but I sense that Petunia's fiancé might not have as quite a developed sense of sarcasm as you and I. Perhaps, especially considering your unique schooling situation, we should attempt to be more tactful."

"He's the most self-important, puffed up, pompous, fish-faced—"

"Yes, but Petunia likes him, and it's not for us to question her judgment."

"She can't honestly expect us to all be okay with a man like—"

"Lily," and his voice gained a stern edge, "you will hold in your temper until Vernon leaves tonight. After that you may feel free to vent to me, but you will not upset your mother with complaints."

"Dad, Vernon already thinks I'm a delinquent; can you just send me to my room for the rest of the night?"

"I'm pretty sure that would upset your mother, and when I upset her my stomach suffers. Lily, if you just do this for me I promise that when you bring a boy here, which mind you shouldn't be for some years yet, I'll give him a couple of minutes to prove his worthiness before driving him out."

"And if I bring a girlfriend?"

"Then I'll just leave you and your girlfriend alone with Vernon for a few minutes. If your love can whether that I suppose I'll just have to accept it."

"Thanks, Daddy." I don't think my simple accounting of our conversation can do justice to my father. I idolize the man. Ideally, I wish I could always behave like him: calm, thoughtful, kind. Unfortunately, though I may have gotten the Evan's eyes, most of me belongs to my Duncan side: the red hair, the temper, the tendency to hold grudges . . . Any good qualities I may possess I attribute my father. (Well, actually, my excellent jinxing skills probably come from mum).

As I walked into the dining room, I saw Vernon frantically whispering to Petunia. He had clearly taken me quite seriously. Poor, sad, man.

Mum sensed the tone in the air and was rapidly bustling around throwing food onto all of our plates. Hoping, perhaps, that with food in our bellies the mood would dissipate and we could morph into the desired _happy family_. She was partly right in this assumption. The food prevented heavy conversation, though Vernon certainly had a knack for simultaneously chewing and talking. Thus, it wasn't until pudding that Vernon started in about my school again.

"Mrs. Evans, you're an excellent cook," he said, patting his belly. "I can only pray that you've passed this skill onto your daughter."

"Well, to Petunia certainly, but Lily is so often gone that I've never been able to give her quite as many lessons as I'd like."

"Mum," I sighed, "you've given me more than enough. When I stayed at the McDonald's, Mary's mom would make me cook at least once a week because she liked your recipes so well."

Vernon's beady eyes followed me as he asked, "The McDonald's? Not Hogwarts?"

"I stayed with my friends the McDonald's for about a month this summer."

"You'd think, that since you never get to see your own family while you're at Hogwarts you wouldn't be so eager to abandon them once summer rolls about. What kind of people are the McDonalds?"

"Vernon," cried Petunia, clutching his red arm, "why does it even matter what kind of people Lily spends her time with? It shouldn't matter to us, we don't have to associate with them."

"Just in case you were wondering," I said coldly, "the McDonalds are greengrocers and are perfectly respectable people."

Petunia shot me a cold look. "Isn't their daughter a friend of yours from your _school_? How respectable could they be with a daughter like that?"

Across the table my father's eyes found mine. I saw the warning in their depths: _Resist it, Lily. You're better than this, Lily. I love you, Lily. _So, I held my tongue.

"So there are others who attend this school of yours?" said Vernon.

"Well," I said, coldly, "that's kind of the point of a school."

"Who runs this school? Is it privately run or a religious institution?" Then Vernon's eyes lit up. "Or perhaps it is associated with our prison system, a sort of containment and rehabilitation center for juveniles."

"No-no," stammered my mother, "Lily just goes to a private boarding school, nothing like that."

"Then why is it that Petunia didn't attend this school? It hardly seems fair that you'd save to send off your second daughter, but not the first."

"Lily got in on a scholarship grant, due to her test scores," mum gasped.

"How on earth would a private academy, that's clearly not even located in Europe, get a hold of one small girl's primary school test scores? I think," and his mustache bristled as he rose, "that I am being lied to. I do not appreciate being treated with this kind of behavior, and unless I get the truth of this matter once and for all I don't think I can align myself with this family."

Petunia shot up pleadingly, "Vernon, darling, please. You're blowing this completely out of proportion."

"I do not appreciate being lied to, and to find my own fiancé has done so is the worst of all. Tell me the truth of this matter, Petunia, or I may retract my engagement."

Petunia's face was tinged green and her long neck swiveled about desperately, possibly looking for any escape from this situation. I couldn't believe that she could actually have any attachment to Vernon, but what did I care if my name was dragged through the mud. If it could help Petunia, then oh well.

"Petunia," I said, jumping up, "Thank you for covering for me, but Vernon's right. If he's going to join this family then he needs to know all of its secrets." Petunia's eyes bulged, terrified that I was loosing the raw magical truth.

"I don't actually go to a boarding school; I wish, but I highly doubt any respectable school would take me. Instead, since I was eleven, I've been going off to various schools for unstable children. I went first to a religious school, but I was far too vulgar for the nuns. They promptly shifted me off to a succession of state run schools. Now, I'm in a juvenile detention facility, the only place that will take me, really."

Petunia and my mother bore identical gape-jawed looks of shock, and my father was clutching his spoon with a trembling hand, in rage or laughter I couldn't quite tell. Vernon, on the other hand, finally looked contented. He slid back into his seat beaming in satisfaction.

"See now," he grunted, " I don't see why everyone was so determined to keep that from me. It's my right to know whether or not my sister in law has a criminal record. If I'm just upfront about what a bad seed you are to the managers at Grunnings I'm sure that the impact on my career will be minimal. By the way, what crimes exactly do you have to your name?"

I pulled random offenses out of the air. "Oh . . . theft, carjacking, loitering, trespassing, disrupting the peace, smoking near no smoking signs, and . . . ummm . . . gang violence." I could see I'd overdone it because Vernon began to choke violently on his pudding. Petunia flitted about his head while he desperately sought to free his airway.

"You shouldn't just be in detention facility," he spluttered, "you-you should be in outright jail, juvenile or not. I suspected you were a criminal, but never— I didn't even imagine— Petunia, I don't think there is any possible way that I can remain in this engagement. Petty crime can be pushed aside as a mere black sheep, but this behavior . . . It seems clear to me now that you Mr. and Mrs. Evans could not have raised your children correctly. Either that or the blood's just bad all around. I'm sorry Petunia, but I no longer wish—"

"You absolute toad." I muttered, murder in every syllable, "You can insult me, and accuse me of criminal behavior all you want. And if my sister allows your ill treatment then that's her choice, and her fault for casting her lot with yours, but you will not insult my parents. You will not breathe a word against the hosts who've put up with your preening and your arrogance and your absolute disregard for the feelings of even your fiancé. You will not insult my parents!"

"Lily," hissed Petunia, "Lily, you're only making this worse. Please just explain to Vernon that you were exaggerating about your crimes. She's all bluster, Vernon, darling. Really, she's committed nothing worse than shoplifting—"

"Petunia," I screamed," Stop trying to justify yourself to him! He's the one who's insulting you. How on earth can you even think of marrying him? What on earth do you see in him? Even you could do better!"

"I wouldn't expect a _freak_ like you to understand. Vernon is everything you're not, normal and sensible and working towards honest goals. He's dependable. With him I never have to worry about whether my hair will change color or the vegetables will fly up to the roof. With him I'll have no surprises, just a normal, expected life."

"And that's honestly what you want? You who dreamed of flying, you who wished for magic, want that?"

"Yes. I want a life without magic, a life without you!"

I stared at her through fogging eyes. People say that we don't look very much alike: different heights, different build, different hair, different eyes . . . But as I stared into her face I noticed the similarities: the nose, slightly turned up at the end, the eyebrows, light and tapered, the single dimple, oddly high on the cheek. She is my sister, through and through. She is my sister, but she hates me.

I turned to flee, and behind me I heard a crackle and crunch as the pudding bowl exploded and glass pelted the walls.

I'm sure that Vernon was left utterly gobsmacked, or at least splattered in gobs of pudding. Hopefully, he'll still leave Petunia, but I doubt it. For all his talk he's not likely to find anyone better than her.

I've received a letter from the Department for the Control of Underage Sorcery. Thank goodness it's a first time offence, and all I got was a warning. If it was Vernon, horrible fish faced Vernon, who caused me to get expelled, then I'd make sure to cast a couple of my nastiest jinxes his way before they snapped my wand.

I'm so livid, and not just at Tuney and her wretched fiancé, but at my parents. How could they? How could my noble father just stand and let Vernon sully our family? How could my firebrand mother stand to sit meekly by while we were insulted?

How is it possible to love my family so much, to be so packed with concern for then that it's like a physical ache, but to hate being with them to a degree where I'd gladly toss all my possessions in a trunk and ride the nightbus as far away as it will take me? How can Petunia still hold onto her hate so well? You'd think that that type of grudge keeping would drain away at a person, but maybe she doesn't have to keep it anymore. Maybe she's just absorbed it in, imbibed it in to the point where it's just as much a part of her as our misplaced dimple.

Thank goodness I'm going back to school soon.

Wretchedly Yours,  
Lily

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* * *

August 7, 1976

Dear Lily,

I hope you are enjoying yourself back at your home. I was sorry to see you go, and in fact tried to see you a couple of times the week preceding your departure. Unfortunately, we seemed to keep missing each other. Then again, it's very easy to miss someone when they're standing behind a mountain of produce, or hiding in a closet, but I digress.

I'd like to talk to you as soon as possible. I guess that probably means on the Hogwarts express. I could apparate over to your house, but I doubt either you or your parents would take kindly to that interruption. Anyway, I hope you're having a nice summer. See you and _talk _to you soon.

Frank

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* * *

August 9, 1976

Dear Lily,

I'm back, and only ran into deatheaters once, well twice if you count that one time at the diner.

Just kidding, Lily. In fact, my summer was rather mind-numbingly tedious. It turns out that dad's reporting just involved long-winded interviews with lower members of the French ministry. I don't speak French, but even so, I wasn't allowed to attend these interviews. Instead, Davy and I were shipped off to waste time with our Great-Uncle Barney's cousin Marigold. I have no idea what that makes her to me. Bleh . . .

So, are we meeting up in Diagon Alley? I could really do with some English speaking, non-cheek-pinching company. Hope to see you soon.

Love,  
Marlene

P.S. What is this Mary tells me about a certain Frank Longbottom? Whatever happened to good old celibate Lily?

.

* * *

From the Notebooks of Sir Prongs namely James Potter

August 15, 1976

Sirius's motorbike is done. I'd been sort of curious as to where he'd been disappearing to, but this morning he emerged all greasy, yet somehow still fetching (I hate him sometimes), from the tool shed and announced that his bike was done. He'd even managed to add a few wicked enchantments to it. I'm not sure how he managed it. Did he buy magic parts? Or did he just ignore the underage sorcery laws and enchant it? Sirius has a theory that in houses with overage wizards the ministry can't actually tell who's casting the spell, and thus we can do as much magic as we please. I'm not feeling up to testing that theory, but I can see Sirius doing it.

Anyway, Sirius's bike can fly. He's just bursting from the seams with pride. He says that it's even better than a broomstick, but that's ruddy impossible. How could some muggle smoke belching monstrosity ever beat the smooth handling of a broomstick?

Despite my reservations, Sirius convinced me to take a ride on the bike seeing as we needed to stop by Diagon Alley to get school supplies.

"But, Sirius, Remus and Peter need to pick up supplies too. We can't fit four on a bike."

"No need," beamed Sirius, "Remus won't want to take the bike and I don't want to take Peter."

"That's hardly fair."

"But it's true; he'll weigh down the bike."

"Peter is not that fat. You probably weigh more than he does."

"Are you calling me fat?" said Sirius, voiced laced with mock girlish indignation.

"No . . . it's just your muscles are so . . . heavy. I doubt we'll even be able to get off the ground."

"Good try, mate. But you needn't worry. Wormy will just go with Moony; no one's alone. Good feelings all around."

Thus, we embarked off for London on our flying motorbike. Another one of Sirius's magical modifications was a handy dandy disillusionment charm. The charm didn't spread to us, but to avoid looking foolish (after all I did have to cling rather tightly to Sirius as he insisted on driving) and attracting unwanted attention we flew under my invisibility cloak. Other than upsetting a few bird formations and nearly hitting one building (darn reflective glass) the flight went off without a hitch.

Sirius and I then set off to purchase all our goods for the coming year. The list of books was exceedingly daunting. I planned to continue in all of my courses except Divination (despite my O), Astronomy, History of Magic and maybe Care of Magical Creatures. I actually did really well on my test, but I'm pretty sure that I won't need it unless I want to pursue a career as a dragon tamer or future gamekeeper, which I definitely don't. I'm actually not really sure at all what I want to pursue. I could always be an auror, but that career doesn't actually have that much of an appeal for me.

I'd like to have a career where I can do what I'm best at and what I most enjoy . . . unfortunately, I'm not entirely sure of what that is. I'm decent at quidditch, but probably not decent enough for the professional leagues. I'd say my best subject is Transfiguration, but in what career could I professionally transfigure? I wonder if I could be a professional animagus? I guess before I could be I'd first have to become a legal animagus . . . hmmmm, that would require far too much paperwork, plus a good cover story.

"Sirius," I said, leaning towards him as he perused an astronomy textbook, "do you have any idea what you're going to do after Hogwarts?"

"Hmmmm," he grunted, looking up, "Come on James, we're only sixth years no need to worry your shaggy little head about it yet."

"Humor me. Haven't you even thought about it?"

"I guess I . . . I guess I'll just do what you do."

"But I have no idea what I'm going to do after Hogwarts."

"I guess that means that we're both flummoxed."

"Sirius, seriously mate," he shot me a wry smile at the old joke, "You can't depend on me for your future career. We don't like all the same things; you might hate whatever I eventually settle on."

"I'm not really picky. Honestly, I'm open for anything. Since I don't care what I go into I should at least try to be with someone I like. Thus, I'll just do what you do."

"Come on, Sirius. We don't need to have the same job to spend time together. You should really consider what you want to do with your life."

"Hey James, look there's Lily."

"I will not be distracted. I want you to settle on at least one concrete potential career."

"No mate," he laughed, turning my head, "she's really there."

And there she was. Right outside the shop window of Flourish and Blotts stood Lily, Mary, and Marlene. Lily was looking highly harassed and heading for the store's door.

"Marlene's here," said Sirius, "I haven't seen her all summer. You know, I quite enjoy her. Out of all of the sixth year girls she's the only one who really shares my sense of humor."

"I need to hide," I whispered, looking around for an adequately large bookcase.

"What? Why? This is Lily, remember?"

"That's the point," I moaned. "Remember the last time I saw her? The incident with a certain over affectionate—"

"And devilishly handsome."

"And wildly inappropriate mutt. In my attempt to keep your mangy paws off her I acted like loon. I don't want to see her now, especially not when she's with her friends. You may enjoy McKinnon, but I find her highly intimidating. So, help me find a hiding place."

"If I help you hide, will you lay off me about the job thing?"

"Sure, sure, for now," I pleaded, seeing Lily pass through the door.

"Fine," grinned Sirius, "Into the Divination section. Lily won't go in there; she didn't take that class." Saying that, we slipped into the Divination section, an area loaded with books carrying eyes, grims, and various ominous portents. Sirius pushed me beneath a table bearing a tasseled cloth and a crystal ball.

"Now you get in here too," I whispered.

"Not likely," laughed Sirius, "I'm not afraid of Lily. In fact, I'm rather keen to see her after all the lovely snogging we did. Besides, I'll distract her from discovering this cowardly display."

"I hate you Sirius Black."

"No you don't. Be back soon." I saw a flash of red as his trainers streaked away.

"So, why are you here?" murmured a voice by my elbow.

I rapidly turned and smashed my head against a table leg. Through streaming eyes I caught sight of Emmeline's messily attired sister, Maggie, also crouched beneath the table. On the messiness scale she wasn't actually all that bad today, sweater buttoned crookedly and ponytail frizzy and lopsided, but at least her face was clean.

"Holy Mary!"

"It's Maggie actually," she said crossly.

"Yes, yes, I know that. I was just cursing because I was surprised and I hit my head."

"Ah," she said, smiling, "please continue."

"Nah, I'm good. So, why are you here?"

"I asked you first."

"Yes, but I'm older, and you just caused me to sustain minor brain trauma."

"You're not a lot older," she said huffily, "I'm going to be a fifth year, and my birthday is even early on. You're only a good eight, nine months older than me."

"Yeah, but I'm a good deal more mature. Look at the state of you pudding face." I said gesturing to her hair and clothes.

At the mention of the old nickname her face curdled, skin draining and brows contracting in anger. "Hey Potter," she hissed, "I may not know exactly why you're down here, but I do know you don't want to be found. If you don't shut your trap and tell me what I want to know I might just have to reveal your location."

"Fine, I'm down here avoiding Lily Evans. Why are you down here?"

"Why would you avoid Lily? Everybody knows you love her. Is it because her and Frank are dating now?"

"That is not necessarily true. We just know that he went on that one date with her, that does not imply dating."

"Whatever," she said, straightening her ponytail, though as soon as she'd fixed it promptly slid to the left again, "Frank is interested. You were there when he admitted it. And I don't know what Lily thinks, but if Frank expressed any interest in me I'd definitely go for it."

"Well then good thing you aren't Lily." It was difficult to hold in my irritation with the messy imp. It was a pity that I couldn't leave or even speak above a whisper in fear of discovery. "So then, why are you hiding beneath this table?"

"Well, like you. I am hiding from some people I'd rather not face right now."

"Who?"

"Well . . . Fabian for one."

"I can understand that. He can be a real git."

"Yes, yes," she said, "but that's not the main person. I can deal with Fabian as long as he's not actively eating my sister's face, but I saw his sister earlier, and she simply terrifies me."

"Molly Prewett?" I'd never met her, but I'd heard my mother mention her a few times before. All I knew was that she was a redhead with a temper, and frankly, that's a combination that I normally like.

"No, Molly Weasley. She's been married for a few years. She's fiercely protective of her younger brother, and she only recently found out that Emmeline is dating Fabian. She was harassing me for details until I had the good sense to slip under here. She seems to think that Emmeline isn't worthy of Fabian, not that she married all that well, eloping with a Weasley. They may be purebloods, but they don't have two galleons to rub together."

"Funny," I mussed, "You'd think that Fabian would be the one who isn't worthy of Emmeline, git that he is."

"You know, he really isn't all that bad. A little pompous, kind of full of himself, but beneath the shell the nut's good."

"How very profound. So," I asked, beginning to feel my muscles cramping, "how long have you actually been here?"

"I don't know, an hour or two. But it's not all bad, I've heard some pretty interesting things down here."

"Like what?"

"Well," she murmured, leaning closer so that her face was directly by my ear, "I heard a lot of silly gossip, who's snogging who and what not, but then there was a group of Slytherins, I think, and it seemed really serious. One of them mentioned that even some kids within Hogwarts have been recruited by You Know Who. That he might even be making underage wizards deatheaters. If that's true, then there are deatheaters inside Hogwarts. Isn't that crazy? Makes you a little bit scared to go back to school."

"Did you hear any specific names? You know who some of the deatheaters are?" As I asked I pictured Regulus's face, Sirius in miniature, but pinched and drawn, entirely lacking in his brother's infectious joy. I could only hope he hadn't. Regulus had stopped delivering Sirius's things, but that didn't necessarily mean he'd become a deatheater. More likely, he'd been caught, or lost his nerve, or changed his mind. He wasn't necessarily a deatheater. I hoped for Sirius that he wasn't.

"Nah, I'd reckon they'd have to be really stupid little Slytherins to go and blab the names in a bookstore, that's talk for their common rooms. But you know I have some pretty good guesses. There are several people in Slytherin who've been more than open about their support for You Know Who."

"Who'd you think?"

"Well that Mulciber is a nasty fellow, and I'd bet that all the kids he hangs around with Avery, Snape, Nott, maybe even that girl Narcissa Black. All the Blacks are really unpleasant. I hear that Narcissa's older sister is a deatheater. Bellatrix, do you remember her? Mental girl."

"Not all the Blacks are unpleasant. Don't just go generalizing like that."

"Oh," she smirked, "sorry. I didn't mean to insult your boyfriend. Sirius is of course the white sheep of the family."

"Regulus isn't all that bad either. Or at least Sirius thinks he's pretty decent."

"Whatever, he's in my classes, and he seems a brat, a spoiled, pale, princeling. He may be good looking, but I'd never date someone so clearly stuck up."

"Well, I don't think anyone expects you to go and date a Slytherin."

"You on the other hand, I'd date," there was something hidden within her eyes. I couldn't tell her intent. Was she being serious or not? Best just to take it as a joke.

"Whoa there pudding face, I saw you in diapers, that would be really creepy."

Her curdled look was back, "Once again, I'm a year younger than you. If you saw me in diapers than you were probably still in them too. I'm not asking you out or anything. I'm just saying that I'd be willing to date you, maybe even eager. I'd also be fine with dating Frank, but he's taken. I might consider Sirius, but he doesn't really date does he?"

"Not as far as I know, or at least not steadily. He prefers to dabble."

"Yes, that's not what I want," she said, her black eyes fixed on me, "I'd prefer a steady dating experience. You and Frank both seem the type. Pity that you're both hung up on the same girl."

"You're alarmingly forward; did you know that?" I said hoping to divert the conversation.

"Yes, I know. It's one reason I was having trouble dealing with Molly Weasley. She's also alarmingly forward, and we forward people generally get into trouble when confronting each other head on, collisions and what not. But that's not the point," and her eyes were right back on target, "the point is that I'll probably ask you out at some point."

"Do I get a say in this?"

"Of course, if you want to be the one doing the asking out, feel free."

I was getting rather exasperated by this point. Despite being consistently messy, Maggie was rather good looking, and I was flattered. But, as previously discussed, I'm not interested in the whole casual dating thing. I'm a man with a plan. I'm a man with a goal. I want the one, and the one is Lily Evans.

"What if I'm not really interested in dating right now?" I asked.

"You should be. You've never actually dated anyone in Gryffindor, and I think that's because you've been working to avoid serious dating, as you're too infatuated with Miss Lily. Maybe, if you dated a little you'd find it much easier to get over her."

"What if I don't want to get over her?"

"Well, then a little bit of dating could serve to make you a better boyfriend for her in the long run. Wouldn't you be embarrassed if you eventually convinced her to go on a date and she dumped you because you were such a bad snog?"

"I don't think Lily is like that." Lily, Lily, supremely good Lily wouldn't ditch a fellow just because he might not be the most experienced. I'm sure that if I was a bad snog when we eventually got together she'd help me get better through practice. Oh, how I'd like to practice with Lily.

"I find that if a guy's a bad kisser that he always becomes less attractive, even if he's a decent person. The opposite is also true."

"I'm not a fan of this superficial mindset you have. For one so very, very young, you seem awfully jaded."

"No, I'm just realistic. You live in a fantasy world. If you could break out of it I think you'd find that Lily isn't as perfect as you imagine and that there are a lot of very attractive equally amazing girls out there for you to date."

"You know, maybe you should date Sirius. It seems like you and he have similar mindsets. Both of you should get together so that you stop being so opinionated about my love life."

"Or lack thereof. But it doesn't matter, I don't want Sirius, that's not what I'm looking for." And she was looking at me in that rather uncomfortable fashion, again. Her glance rather made me feel like I wasn't wearing any clothes, which was amazing because I was wearing three layers.

"Did somebody say my name?" asked Sirius popping his head beneath the cloth.

"Sirius," I gasped, in relief, "Is it safe to come out yet?"

"Why is Margie down here with you? Have you two been canoodling? Is this why you were trying to avoid Evans?"

"It's Maggie," hissed Maggie, leering at Sirius.

"No, Maggie just was feeling similarly impelled to hide," I said, as I poked my head out from beneath the table. I couldn't see Lily or her friends anywhere, but my view was rather restricted. "Is it safe to come out, yet?"

"Yup," said Sirius, pulling me up. "Evans departed with her mountain of textbooks about a minute ago. She was so distracted that she might not have even noticed you; she nearly hit her head on the doorframe on the way out. By the way, Moony is waiting for us in the Leaky Cauldron."

"With Peter."

"I suppose," sighed Sirius, rolling his eyes, "I didn't bother to check."

"Alright then," and I turned to Maggie, though I avoided her gaze. "Thanks for not revealing me, and . . . I suppose I'll see you later."

"Just remember what I said because I meant it."

"Sure, sure," I called as Sirius and I slipped out.

"I picked up your books while you were so . . . _occupied," _said Sirius, giving me an encouraging slap on back.

"We didn't do anything. I'm not the type who goes sneaking around under tables."

"Then why was she looking so _mussed_?"

"She always looks that way. She's Emmeline's younger sister, and I used to call her pudding face because she was constantly covered in either chocolate or mud."

"Awwww," said Sirius, pinching me on the cheek, "that's an adorable nickname. Your Pudding."

"Don't worry, I'm not even remotely interested in her. I mean, I'm flattered at the attention, but I could never think of her in that way. Plus, I find her distinctly unnerving, and that isn't really a good quality in a girlfriend, or at least not one I'd like."

"Wow, Prongs, she really has you all topsy-turvy. I was just heckling."

"Yeah," I sighed, "I'm sorry. She just said some interesting things."

And she had, really. Ignoring all the uncomfortable stuff about my love life, she'd mentioned that Voldemort now had deatheaters in place within Hogwarts. If that's true, then how far would these deatheaters go to achieve their master's aims? Would they actually attack anyone within Hogwarts, or would their purpose be purely recruiting? Either ways, Hogwarts was starting to feel significantly less safe. True, the threat of Voldemort had been steadily rising for years, but maybe I'd just been ignorant to it when I was younger. Somehow, despite hundreds and hundreds of deaths, no one I'd actually known well had been killed.

Dad had certainly been threatened, but being high enough in the ministry that's rather unavoidable. I've never actually worried all that much about dad because he's so utterly competent. Somehow, I can't even imagine him ever being harmed by the deatheaters. Maybe I just don't want to imagine it.

Still, if Sirius's brother is in danger then I need to offer him whatever help I can. I know that Sirius can stand up to the deatheaters; he's just as infallible as my dad. Sirius may not know what he's going to do with his life, but I have a pretty good guess: he'll fight. Sirius is a natural fighter. He'll give all those dark wizards a taste of the power of the white sheep of the Black family. Regulus on the other hand, he's in a bad place. I'm not sure if he can avoid being dragged down in the gathering darkness around him. If it's really true that there are deatheaters in Hogwarts, then trouble is on its way . . . that's for certain.

Tastefully Yours,  
James

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading. I'm being redundant here, but reviews make me update faster. Plus, they earn my love . . .

_Droopy Breeches_


	10. Of Gobsmacked and Sliding Doors

**Author's Note: **This was an exceedingly fun chapter to write, maybe even more so than Of Crazy and Impetuous, which was a total blast. I hope that you guys enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

_Droopy Breeches_

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From the Notebooks of Sir Prongs namely James Potter

September 1, 1976

Lately, I think I've fallen into the habit of making this notebook too much of a journal. Basically, I've potentially lost sight of the fact that I planned to keep track of my behavior in here so that I could avoid being tasteless. I got that impression a few days ago when I was looking over my past few entries and realized that I've done several tasteless things without really pointing them out.

1. Spying on Lily. She probably wouldn't approve, not that she actually found out . . . I hope.

2. Refusing to let Fabian and company play quidditch. I assume that a truly tasteful man would rise above our petty grudge. Not that it really is petty, as Fabian has earned my dislike. The git.

3. Hiding under the table at Flourish and Blotts. A tasteful person would have politely greeted Lily, and then small talked about the weather or the books on display. But no, I couldn't do that. I had to throw myself under a table and end up in an awkward confrontation with Miss surprisingly forward.

But you know what, though I get that it is often a good idea to be a tasteful person, being one all the time would be exceedingly dull. Besides, Lily isn't always perfect. Maggie said so a couple of weeks ago, and now I have proof, proof that Lily can be quite tastelessly impulsive herself.

Earlier today, I was in a compartment with Sirius and Peter. Remus was off at the Prefect meeting, and we were discussing my recent encounter with Maggie. In times of stress, especially about women, I almost always turn to Sirius. Certainly, he's a lot more experienced than me, but I wouldn't say he's a playboy. He always treats the girls he dates great; he just dates a lot of them. Also, he has a whole slew of female cousins who he played with when he was younger. He says that they gave him valuable insight into the female psyche. I, unfortunately, am the only child of an only child father. Mum has a bachelor brother, and therefore I have no cousins.

"Sirius," I said. "Why would she go and tell me she likes me when she knows I like Lily?"

"Because she likes you. I already told you, you're looking for too many hidden meanings in what she said. It seems to me that she's a rather straightforward girl. She said that she'd like to date you, and that's what she legitimately means."

"But we barely know each other. How could she like me?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "She a least knows about your pansy reputation, James Potter the sweetest date you'll ever have, a truly chivalrous Gryffindor."

"What are you blathering on about?"

"Isn't that what that Hufflepuff girl you dated said about you?"

"Yeah, but that was before we broke up. She probably thinks I'm a prat now."

"Nope, I heard this from her after the break up. It's what you get for breaking up with a girl by honestly expressing your feelings and listing all her good qualities and why you wouldn't make her a good boyfriend. I really think that your breakup raised her self esteem."

"I was just being honest. I wouldn't have made her a good boyfriend. We disagreed about almost everything, and it wasn't fair for me to date her when I was interested in other girls."

"One other girl," said Peter.

"Still," laughed Sirius, "you have a reputation as a sweetie pie. Maggie is probably looking for a self esteem boost as well."

"I do not have a reputation as a sweetie pie. I have a reputation as a troublemaker, a marauder."

"An adorable troublemaker. We all have reputations, you're the nice guy leader, I'm the attractive mysterious one, Remus is the smart one, and Peter is . . ."

"I'm the leader?" I asked, surprised but somewhat pleased. I'd never thought of myself as the leader of the marauders. We all pranked together, all equals.

"What am I?" asked Peter.

"No, but you have a reputation as the leader. Really, I'd say I'm more of the leader."

"You are not the leader."

"What am I?" asked Peter, again.

"I am to," huffed Sirius, "All the best pranks are my ideas, and whenever you guys are too busy to keep it going I do the small pranks."

"Hey, the professor pin-up was my idea."

"But it was my enchantment."

"No, I did all the transfiguration you just snitched the photos."

"What am I?"

"Huh?" I turned to Peter, confused as to what he was asking.

"What is my reputation?"

"Oh," said Sirius, "Well, you're the-the-the—"

"You're the supportive one, Peter. Without you keeping us all together we'd never manage to pull off a single prank."

"Oh." Peter turned away, digesting my words. I certainly hoped he took them positively, even if they were a bit of a fib. Really, I think I've always thought of Remus as more of the supportive one. Peter is . . . peter is the one who completes us, making our three a four, just being there for us. I really like Peter; he is actually quite supportive, now that I think about it. He always cheers me on in quidditch, he'll quiz Remus, and when Sirius allows it he makes an excellent opponent in Exploding Snap and Wizard Chess, plus he's killer at gobstones. Peter is great, really.

"Whatever," barked Sirius, "Why don't you just go on a date with Maggie?"

"Because I don't want to lead her on."

"But she knows you like Lily and she doesn't even care. You wouldn't be leading her on, she'll take whatever she can get."

"Sirius, why don't you go and date her if you're so eager."

"She already said she won't date me, and I'm not looking for the type of serious relationship that she wants."

"But I'm not looking for one either." I said, frustrated.

Sirius took on a slow explanatory tone, "Yes, you are. You're just looking for a serious relationship with Evans. Maggie was trying to say that you should try seriously dating someone else to take your mind off Evans."

"But I don't want to start a relationship with Maggie, it makes me feel like I'm cheating on Lily."

"You can't cheat on someone you're not dating," growled Sirius. "Why don't you just try going out with Maggie. She's okay with you still liking Lily. Maybe, if you date someone else it will help clarify your feelings for Evans. Either you'll find out that you really truly like Evans, or you'll discover that you like Maggie, who is very attractive by the way, even more."

"I already know that I really truly like Ev—Lily."

"Why, Prongs? What about Evans makes you know that you truly like her?"

"Well . . ." Where to begin? I liked so much about Lily. There was so much to tell. So much that I wondered where to start and of course accidentally started with the shallow reason. "She's just so beautiful." Darn it. I didn't even mention the eyes or her firebird hair or the way her lopsided dimple creases even more when she's angry than when she smiles.

"Yeah, Maggie's beautiful too. I'd say even more than Evans. Evans is a little pale, kind of peaky looking." Not peaky looking, delicate, otherworldly. Skin that made her seem likely to slip away into the woods to return to her forest spirit parents.

"And she's so together. She's so mature and tasteful for someone our age."

"You're attracted to that?" said Sirius, incredulously. "You like that Evans is a stick in the mud?"

"No, she's not that. She's controlled, but she can still have fun. She just knows when to play and when to study. And she's neat. Maggie's always mussed; she always looks like she just came from wrestling bear cubs."

"Says the boy who makes a habit of messing up his hair," said Sirius, with a snide look at my hand, which I had just pulled through my hair.

"Yes, but I don't do it intentionally, or at least not lately. I've been—"

Then, the compartment door banged open and Remus stood in the entry, his eyes darting to and fro. After a few moments he let out a long sigh and sat down next to me, still somewhat pale.

"Remus, are you feeling okay?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. I rushed over here. I'm just a little bit breathless."

"That eager to get out of the Prefect Meeting, aye?" grinned Sirius.

"What? No-I the meeting was fine. Everything is fine."

"Was Evans being as mature and tasteful as usual?" said Sirius, shooting me a sly look.

"What!" yelled Remus, shooting up. "How do you know about that? Did you tell James?"

Sirius and I exchanged bewildered looks. Peter had been attempting to sleep but was now looking around puzzled. This was not the typical Moony reaction.

"Know about what?" asked Sirius.

"Tell me what?" I asked.

"Oh," and Moony's face fell, "you don't know. I was just . . . I can't believe I saw—I said." Then he shook his head. "Never mind. It's nothing. I'm just tired and confused. It's nothing."

Suddenly, the compartment door banged open . . . again. Lily stood in the entry, looking almost unrecognizable. Her hair was out of its typical braid and streaming over her face, parts of it stuck up as though backcombed. All her clothes were severely _mussed. _Worst of all, her face was deep red, and her panting mouth seemed smeared.

"Drat, wrong compartment," she gasped than turned and fled down the aisle.

I felt all the eyes in the compartment find me, but I couldn't see anything except Lily standing by the door.

"So," muttered Sirius, "I guess she isn't always as _neat_ as we thought."

"Remus," I said harshly, turning towards him. "Is this what you didn't want me to know?"

"Oh James, I'm sorry. I was so shocked. It isn't like her. I couldn't believe it when I saw."

"Frank."

"Yes," Remus said softly.

"You know what, Sirius, maybe I should try dating Maggie. She doesn't care that I like Lily, and clearly Lily doesn't care either."

"Prongs, don't do anything you'll regret," Sirius was looking at me with concern, perhaps because I was clutching the fabric of trousers so tightly.

"No, your arguments made sense. Since I started this . . . infatuation, I haven't even tried really dating anyone else. So, I'll try."

"James . . ." murmured Remus. "We don't know all the details. We should—"

"No, I've made up my mind."

And I have. I'll take Maggie up on her offer, and why not? She's good looking. She's a great quidditch player. She's smart and alarmingly forward. She'll be fine. No, she'll be great. She'll be a great girlfriend.

Tastefully Y— Wait. Never mind.

Yours,  
James

.

* * *

My Prefect Notebook

September 2, 1976

How very nice it is to be settled back in my dormitory in Hogwarts, away from Petunia, away from Vernon, though sadly not away from the nagging abilities of Marlene. I thought Mary was bad, with her gentle pestering, but Marlene is horrendous. Due to my previous status as celibate Lily, I've never really given Marlene anything to meddle with, but now that the rumors are buzzing about Frank and I she's determined to make them true.

And now, considering the talk Frank and I had, they might even be.

I'm pretty sure you've already picked up on this, but I can't deal with confrontation very well. I have two tactics: the blow up, as exemplified by Vernon and the pudding, or the avoidance, as shown with Frank and the closet. Basically, I'm not really sure why I'm in Gryffindor because I'm a bloody stinking coward.

The avoidance tactic was the plan yesterday on the Hogwarts Express. True, Frank had _expressly _declared his desire to talk to me, but I was feeling an _express _desire to talk with Mr. Crazy and Impetuous as little as possible. Thus, I arrived early to the train and slid into a back compartment fully equipped with blinds, which I promptly pulled down.

About an half an hour later Marlene and Mary arrived looking distinctly peeved.

"Lily," huffed Marlene, "you've stowed yourself in the last compartment in the whole damn train. Do you know how long it took us to find you? And we had to peek into all the compartments with their blinds down because we just knew you'd be hiding. Do you know how many people we walked in on snogging?"

"Individual people or couples?" I asked.

"Far more than I ever wanted to see," bellowed Marlene.

"Though some of the pairings were really interesting," added Mary. "I never though that Reg was the type, but he and Daphne seemed really into it."

"Daphne Queenly? Already?"

"Shut it Lily," glared Marlene. "I don't care who Hogwarts' resident trollop is snogging; I care who my friends are snogging, and I want the whole story on Frank."

"Daphne is really nice, and I already told you in Diagon Alley that nothing is going on with Frank."

"Sirius told me otherwise when I ran into him in Flourish and Blotts. He said that Frank mentioned that he was interested when they were playing quidditch, and Mary confirmed his story."

I turned to Mary, mouth agape. I hadn't heard this yet. "Mary, you didn't mention this when I was in Godric's Hollow."

"Well, you left before I had the chance to fill you in, but it's true. He was rattling on about how amazing and wonderful you are. You, my dear, have him thoroughly gobsmacked."

"Do you mean whipped?" queried Marlene.

"I think gobsmacked works here, like Lily has his head scrambled or something."

"I do not have his head scrambled."

"Yes you do," smiled Mary. "You've been playing games with him. He said that you gave him permission to ask you out. What on earth is that if not a twisted way to toy with him?"

"How did Frank earn this permission to ask? He must be a pretty amazing snogger if you consented to possibly consenting to a date," said Marlene.

An imagine of Frank's cake smeared face flashed before my eyes. Then, an earlier image, the light freckles between his eyes trailing down to his nose and lips. I blushed. I hadn't known I'd had the time to examine his face during the suddenness of the kiss.

Seeing my blush Marlene began to look a little bit gobsmacked herself. "Did you kiss him? Lily, if you kissed him everything I ever thought I knew about you is a lie. What happened to celibate Lily?"

"I didn't kiss him. He kissed me, and I didn't reciprocate." There had been a little linger, but just because I had been so gobsmacked myself. That's it. "In fact, I gave him a piece of my mind for being so forward."

"By smashing some cake into his face?" said Mary.

"Wait how did you know that?"

"Frank mentioned it."

How much had Frank seen fit to divulge to my friend and, if he really was at a quidditch match, probably all our Godric's Hollow classmates? It seemed like Frank was exceedingly eager to gossip about our foolish little _date_, and that made me even more eager to avoid seeing him. Stupid Frank.

"Lily," asked Marlene, "have you talked to Frank at all since the stolen snog and cakey face incident?"

"No," sighed Mary, "she's been avoiding him, hiding behind vegetables and in closets."

"But Lily, you hate closets and the mischief inevitably associated with them," said Marlene.

"Poor Lily, Frank has got her all flustered and contradictory."

"No he hasn't," I barked. "I'm acting perfectly normal."

"Then why are you hiding in the back of the train instead of attending the Prefect's Meeting?"

"Fine, I'll go to the Prefect's Meeting." I popped up from my seat and grabbed the compartment door.

"Remember, Frank is in charge of the Prefect's Meeting," said Marlene.

"I don't actually need to be there. Remus can fill me in." I slid back into my seat.

Marlene shot me an amused look. "I heard Frank asking about you on the platform. If you don't go to the meeting he'll probably come back here looking for you. Wouldn't you rather deal with Frank in a group of people where he won't be able to confront you than be forced to face him one on one? If you go to the meeting then you'll still be able to retain your reputation, as Lily the super prefect."

"Fine. But this isn't about Frank. I'm doing this because it's the responsible thing to do."

So, I went to the meeting, despite my better judgment, despite all the voices screaming in my head that Frank inevitably leads me down the path of crazy and impetuous Lily, a girl I'm not comfortable being.

I rushed down the aisle, my head so crammed with panic that I accidentally slid into the compartment directly opposite the Prefect's compartment and came face to face with a familiar sallow face, Severus hunched in the corner scribbling into a book. He looked up hearing the door click, and quickly hid his book.

"Sev—Snape! What are you doing here? Is the meeting over? I-I, ummm, wrong compartment, I'll-I . . ." I started to slide out of the compartment. In all the bustle of avoiding Frank I'd forgot I was also avoiding Snape. I really need to be braver.

"Lily! Don't I . . ."

"Shouldn't you also be at the meeting?"

"Well, I didn't go. I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

"Ah," True. He was right, but this was far too considerate of him. He needed to stop acting like we were still friends. "Snape, you don't need to avoid meetings just for me. I don't want to be held responsible for you neglecting your duties. You should go to the meeting."

"The only reason I ever went to the meetings was . . ."

"Yes?" I said coldly, avoiding his gaze.

"It doesn't matter. I doubt I'll be going to many of the meetings anymore."

"Why's that?"

"I have other things to occupy my time." His eyes darted to the book gripped, pincer like in his long fingers.

"Well don't tell me because I can easily imagine what things you're talking about."

"Lily . . ."

I slipped out of that compartment and into the real Prefect's Compartment. Funnily enough, getting minorly blow up confrontational with Snape had reduced my nervous avoidance impulse, and as I sat down I smiled once at the gobsmacked Frank.

The meeting proceeded with nothing much of import: patrols were set, agendas discussed, and banned objects reviewed. But at the end of the meeting I made a surprise discovery. Both Frank and I had been wrong about head girl choice. I didn't catch on until a little bit later in the meeting, but it seemed that Narcissa Black was Frank's partner. An odd choice, as the headmaster tends to try and avoid putting rival houses in positions where they'll have to work together. But, as far as I knew, Narcissa had never been openly contemptuous towards Gryffindors. Her disdain was more something you felt in the angle of the nose and the swish of her hair. Good thing Frank is so affable. I don't think I'd be able to deal with Miss Black's icy chuckles for more than a few hours before shoving her body somewhere unpleasant, like that vanishing cabinet on the third floor . . . that would do nicely.

After the meeting ended, I planned to sneak out quickly, but _mysteriously _my left foot was solidly enchanted to the floor. I reached in my pocket for my wand, only to find I'd left it back with my trunk. Bollocks!

As the last two prefects trailed out of the compartment, I briefly considered calling for aid, but I had to face Frank at some point or another, and since he felt the need to hold me hostage . . . I might as well.

Frank was gathering his papers in a deliberately sluggish manner. When he turned he quirked up his eyebrow to see me affixed to the floor.

"Lily, you waited."

"I had no choice really. My foot is stuck."

"Hmmm . . . fancy that."

"What do you need, Frank?"

"Well, I really wanted to have a sit down and discuss where we stand."

"I stand over here and am currently incapable of sitting down."

"Oh, right," He pointed his wand at my foot and I felt the spell lift. I sat down on the seat farthest from him.

"So . . ." he mumbled.

"So . . ."

"So, I felt like our date not date goading thing where you gave me permission to eventually ask for a date went quite well."

"Yes . . ."

"So . . ."

"So?"

"So why did you go and start avoiding me? I just wanted to talk to you, perchance woo you a little bit more before I try my luck at asking you on a real date."

"Yes, well . . ."

"Is it because you were offended at my behavior? I already told you I was stupid to trick you with all the goading. I followed bad advice and bad impulses when I pursued you like that."

"Pursuing me was a bad impulse?" A touch hurt.

"No, but tricking you and kissing you was a bad impulse."

"So kissing me was a bad impulse?" I don't know why, but my inner Barbie was wounded at his words, and I found my voice rising.

"No, kissing you was great. I enjoyed it, really, though it was quite brief. But if the kiss made you all ticked off and started this avoidance act, then I really regret it."

"I'm not avoiding you because of the kiss. I enjoyed it too, I think, maybe, or at least the second one."

Frank's face had been held in his serious head boy demeanor, but at my words it began to slip and I saw a glimpse of the grinning idiot from our date.

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"Huh, what? That doesn't really matter."

"Why are you avoiding me? Lily," and he glanced wickedly at the door, "I can seal a door just as easily as I sealed your foot. Do you really want to be locked alone in a compartment with me?"

Stupid git. "It was because of the kiss," I gasped.

"But you just said that it wasn't because of the kiss."

"Well, I wasn't avoiding you because it was a bad kiss or even because I was pissed that you kissed me, but because it was a kiss."

"Lily," groaned Frank, "you're not making any sense at all."

Poor Frank looked slightly frantic, and I felt I should do my best to try and be clear about my incomprehensible and highly embarrassing feelings. "It wasn't just because of the kiss, but because of the kind of kiss that it was. Because-because I'm sort of-and it was—" I took a deep breath, "It was my first kiss and I felt awkward and slightly robbed, and I didn't want to see you until I knew how I felt, which I still don't, so I did, and I continue to, try to avoid you."

"It was your first kiss? I-I . . . I didn't really expect that. I mean, you're a sixth year it seems a little bit weird that, especially since you're really—"

"Maybe I'm just not the type who throws themselves at any bloke who'd like a snog. Is it wrong to disagree with casual intimacy?"

Frank was chuckling in the corner, stupid git. "So, what you're trying to say is that you're just not sure how you feel about me, and you've been avoiding me while you figure it out?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"I think I know something that might help clarify your feelings."

"Yeah, what?"

"Well, considering that a kiss was what caused these uncertain feelings, then maybe a kiss will help clear them up."

Frank's eyes twinkled wickedly and he stepped closer to me. I'd have darted out the door if he only wasn't blocking it. As it was, my choice to sit as far away from Frank as possible was coming back to bite me because I was getting gradually backed into the wall by my seat.

"Frank, wasn't the point of this trapping me in the compartment business so that we could discuss our issues in a reasonable manner?"

Frank took another step forward, "Yes, but now I know why you've been avoiding me, and I think I know a way to solve it. Wouldn't you like to figure out how you really feel, Lily?"

He was too close. I could feel his breath on my face, and his voice did this interesting deep breathy thing when he said my name. I was officially pinned against the wall, and my thoughts were wandering in unpleasant pleasant ways. Darn it, celibate Lily! Where did you go?

"Frank," I muttered, "I don't think this is really the best way to solve our problem. Forcing yourself on me is certain to make me inclined to refuse the eventual date offer."

"I don't plan to force myself on you. I'm not that kind of guy," I snorted. "Fine, I did do that to you before, but I won't now. This time I'll ask." He leaned down and his hot breath caressed my lips. "Lily, can I kiss you?"

Everything seemed slightly blurred, and my voice squeaked, "Okay." It came out high pitched and breathy and was quickly cut off.

This time it was no peck. His mouth was moving, and I moved mine in response since it seemed the right thing to do. Curse you celibate Lily! I must seem woefully inexperienced to him. We'd been doing the mouth-moving thing for a little bit when I began to feel like my arms should probably be involved, too. Frank was certainly using his to play with my hair, which was actually slightly painful. I could put mine in his hair, but he was so tall, and my reaching ability was somewhat impeded by being pined against the wall. Fine, so I just placed them on his chest. He seemed to like that and moaned slightly, then deepened the kiss.

I was beginning to feel a little bit alarmed. This was going on rather long, and Frank despite my obvious ineptitude seemed to be enjoying it. How does one go about breaking a kiss? I opened my mouth to express a desire to halt, but that was clearly not the way to go about it since Frank took that as an okay to start probing the inside of my mouth. Ewwww . . . I needed to find a way to break away. I needed to find a way to break away.

Suddenly, the door slid open and Frank broke away of his own accord.

Remus was holding a folder of papers and looking rather gobsmacked himself. After a long pause, in which I had the chance to catch a glimpse of my hair in the glass (oh my oh my), Remus shoved the folder in Frank's hands and fled.

Frank looked at me with his cheeky grin in full swing. His sweater was severely mussed and I couldn't believe that I was somehow responsible.

"You know," said Frank, "for a second kiss that was rather astounding. You were so eager and you just kept increasing the intensity. Really for a second kiss . . . wow, but I've always heard that Lily Evans is a fast learner. "

I let out a fake laugh. Why had I allowed that? Why? Why? My feelings didn't feel clarified; they felt murkier than ever. But since I'd allowed the kiss, I could hardly use that as another excuse to avoid him.

"So, is it alright for me to ask for that date now?" asked Frank.

"Huh?"

"How about we continue to get to know each other better. We can talk together, eat together, and do . . . whatever else strikes our fancy, but as soon as the first Hogsmeade weekend rolls around I'll take you on that date. So, are you game?"

"Sure," I mumbled because how do you say no to a date with a guy you've just thoroughly encouraged only because you don't understand how to kiss properly.

"So," grinned Frank, "do you want to pick up where we left off?"

"No!" I shrieked, jumping back and inadvertently hitting the wall. "No, I mean, I have to get back to Mary and Marlene. I told them I'd rush back when the meeting was over, and I don't want them to be suspicious."

I rushed out of the compartment and pelted down the train. My hair was almost as disarrayed as my thoughts, and I got some funny looks from the compartments I passed. The fact that I popped into the wrong compartment several times also didn't help, but my eyes were too blurred to even see who I was disturbing, and by the time I'd gotten back to Mary and Marlene rumors were flying.

"Lily," shrieked Mary, "Is it true that you and James Potter were snogging in the storage closet?"

"What? No-no," I stuttered, puzzled as to how that could have been taken from my ruffled appearance. Why would people immediately assume James Potter? I thought I'd made my feelings on that issue quite clear.

"I thought not," said Marlene. "That's why I told them that it must have been you and Frank in the closet."

"We weren't in a closet, and how did people manage to get here to ask you about this before me? I came straight here from the Prefect's Compartment."

"You were snogging Frank in the Prefect's Compartment?" gasped Mary. "Lily we said you should talk to him, not attack him."

"I didn't attack him. He attacked me."

"Yeah, you look a little bit like you've been attacked," said Marlene. "Was Frank trying to make a bird's nest out of your hair?"

"Mary, can I use your brush? I should clean myself up."

" I hope Frank didn't get all covered in lipstick because your mouth looks thoroughly attacked," said Marlene sliding my trunk forward.

I fixed my hair and pulled on my robes, but I couldn't get rid of my red face or racing heart. What had I gone and done that for? I'd damaged my reputation for sure. The only gossip about me before normally consisted of chuckles over my latest rejection of James Potter, and that was only for a few months last year. That was a running joke: Lily the prude pursued by Potter the troublemaker. I'm pretty sure that Potter was only so persistent about it because he appreciated the joke and the attention it got him. This, on the other hand, was trashy gossip. People must think that I'm as bad as Daphne Queenly. Snogging in the Prefect's Compartment. Snogging in the very compartment where we gathered to discuss ways to decrease after hours snogging. Oh, the hypocrisy.

But, I guess I've endured. I got my fair share of looks during the feast. But the first day of classes was better. Frank and my tryst is gossip that mainly only interests Gryffindors and there are no other Gryffindors in my Ancient Runes class, and only Potter in my Arithmancy class, and he was strangely quiet today. Potions was harder, but I just avoided the stares of Snape and the Gryffindors and worked on my potion. I'm not going to let any gossip rob me of enjoying one of my favorite class.

So, life goes on. I'll just keep my head held high, and try to talk reasonably with Frank. I'm perfectly willing to go on that date, but I should communicate my hesitancy to continue snogging until I'm more comfortable. After all, communication is key. Maybe if I'd communicated more clearly in the first place I wouldn't be in this situation.

Love,  
Lily

.

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**A/N: **Thanks for your feedback last chapter, and special shout out to Awesomely Anonymous. I'm really glad that you liked Maggie and found her frank and honest because that is how I intended her to come off.

Please review, as it is rather the most motivating thing in the world. I make a point of trying to respond to all reviews, so drop a line and I'll love you oddles and oddles.

_Droopy Breeches_


	11. Of Armchairs and Johnny

**Author's Note: **I haven't updated for a few days. But I slapped my lazy head and forced myself to work. Thanks for all the reviews and support.

_Droopy Breeches_

_._

_

* * *

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My Prefect Notebook

September 8, 1976

Flitwick cornered me after charms a few days ago to ask me if I'd be willing to tutor a younger student. At first I was hesitant because my course load is still rather heavy. I dropped Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures, but I'm still taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes and those classes have a murderous amount of homework. But Flitwick just begged and begged me.

"Please, Miss Evans, this student is actually quite excellent I'm sure he won't require much help."

"Then why does he even need tutoring?"

Flitwick's face broke into curious smile, the emotion behind it was somewhat hard to discern. "This student has . . . a bit of— how best to phrase it— a streak of bad luck. His trouble is not so much casting spells but blocking them. I hope you could help him brush up on his defensive charms, shield, deflection, disarming, those kind of helpful spells."

"You make it sound like he needs a dueling teacher. I'm not the best at Defense."

"I've heard quite the contrary, Miss Evans. Professor Harrington mentioned that you received an O on your O.W.L. Besides, the younger student has specially requested you as his tutor."

"What? Why?" I was puzzled, but pleasantly pleased. Did I have a reputation for being good at Charms? I hoped so. I'd much rather have my previous reputation as Lily Evans resident Prudish Bookworm prevail over the new one of Lily Evans resident Loose Woman.

"It seems," whispered Flitwick, "that Johnny saw you casting a few hexes the way of our resident troublemakers last year. You left quite the impression."

"Oh." Well, since the kid so desperately wanted my help, and Flitwick was being so good as to not punish me after an eyewitness account of my crimes, I figured I might as well help.

Plus, this would give me an additional, and much needed, excuse to be away from the Gryffindor Common room at night. The past few days Frank has been desperate to _chat _with me, and he doesn't seem even remotely troubled by the public nature of these _chats_. I'd actually be completely willing to talk with Frank; I'd love to get to know him better, but he seems unable to sustain conversation for more than a few minutes before getting that crazy look in his eyes, the one that just screams that he's tired of wasting air on words when it could be spent on such lovely other things.

Anyway, last night I told Frank that I couldn't chat with him due to my tutoring and ran off to the library. He looked disappointed, but Frank respects both Academia and the aiding of young children, so he sighed and released me with just a pleasantly short peck.

When I got to the appointed table in the library I found a small boy with odd steely-gray hair and intense dark eyes. As I approached he popped up and gave me a long appraising look before stating in a high voice, "You're Lily Evans. You hex Slytherins and the Marauders."

How straightforward of him. "And you are?"

"I'm John, John Dawlish. I'm a Ravenclaw third year, and I want to get better at hexing people rather than being hit by hexes."

"Yeah, Flitwick mentioned something about you having trouble on the defensive end, but I'm a little bit confused. How do you get hexed so often? Do you duel or seek out fights in corridors?" I shot him my prefect glare, and he colored slightly.

"It's not like that," he mumbled. "I-they-Hexes just seem to find me, and not just hexes . . . all spells. I get hit by spells."

"What?"

His intense eyes seemed to fill with fire fueled by remembered indignities. "Anytime we're practicing spells in class, the spells find me: a stunner, wayward pillows, transfigured animals, they all somehow hit or, you know, bite me. And if I pass anyone fighting in the halls inevitably the jinxes hit me. I've been knocked out more times than I can even remember, though the head trauma has certainly contributed to that."

I gaped at the poor boy. Flitwick was certainly understating it to merely say that the boy had bad luck. He sounded utterly cursed.

"How-how do you expect me to help?" I stuttered.

" I need you to teach me advanced defensive techniques, and maybe just help me with my dueling in general. I know that I can't entirely prevent the spells from hitting me, but if I could just reduce the number of times I get knocked out a month . . . that would help."

"Advanced defensive magic, that could be really difficult. I mean, you're just a third year."

"But I'm very good at magic," he pronounced, indignantly. "I'm the top of my grade, and I study all the time. I want to get all Os on my O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. If you help me learn some of the magic now, I'll get a head start."

His dark eyes were now gazing into the distance caught in dreams of future success, and I felt a deep kinship with the kid. I'd had similar O.W.L. dreams. I hadn't, unfortunately (curse you Care of Magical Creatures), been able to get all Os, but there were still my N.E.W.T.s.

"Please," he murmured, hands clenched upon the table, "Please, if I don't learn to better defend myself, if I don't get knocked out less, then I'll never be out of the Hospital Wing long enough to study."

Poor kid. All he wanted to do was study, but sheer bad luck hindered him. Well, I was moved, and I vowed to help him. I swore that under my tutelage little Johnny Dawlish would never get knocked out again!

Or at least that was the intent. I began by teaching him a standard shield charm, and he hadn't been lying about being good at magic because he caught on after only three times. Once he produced a suitable charm I started to test its strength with minor jinxes, very minor ones like the tickling charm since I didn't want to knock him out again.

On the fifth try, his shield deflected the charm, but he was pushed backwards into the Runes shelf, where an ancient edition of _Spellman's Syllabary _stood precariously perched on the top shelf. Time seemed to slow as the monstrous tome teetered, wobbled, and toppled over, and down onto Johnny's grey head. His eyes rolled and he collapsed onto the floor.

Darn it, only half an hour and already I'd failed on my vow.

I rushed over to poor Johnny and muttered _Ennervate_. As he blinked, looking around bewildered, his face lit up.

"Lily, Lily," he yelped. "I did it! I did it! I deflected your jinx."

"But then you got knocked out by a twenty-pound book."

"But don't you see," he grinned, "it wasn't a spell, a book did it, not a spell. I'm making progress."

I decided not to point out that a spell had been responsible for knocking the book down and just escort him to the hospital wing. His head was beginning to develop a sizeable goose egg where he'd been struck.

As I dragged him through the corridors he continued to rant somewhat ecstatically.

"So much progress, so much progress in less than an hour. A few weeks under your tutelage and I'll never be jinxed again!"

"That's a rather optimistic view," I muttered.

"No really! You're awesome: a prefect, top of your year, and even dating the head boy."

"What?" My head swiveled, bones cracking, towards the boy dragging behind me. Since when had that been common knowledge? True, Frank wasn't exactly being subtle what with the constant desire to nuzzle on armchairs, but even a Ravenclaw third year knew? I've said it before, and I'll say it again; what is going on with those romantically informed third-years?

"Please Johnny don't go around telling everyone about the Frank thing. We've only been _dating," _I shuddered a mite bit internally, "for about a week. It's really not a big deal."

"Telling everyone?" said Johnny, curiously, "Why would me telling people be a problem? Everyone knows."

"Everyone knows," I moaned.

"Yeah. I heard it from a Hufflepuff first year."

"Everyone knows, everyone knows, everyone knows!" I felt like impaling myself upon the lance resting on the wall behind Johnny. Why did I have to be in this blasted boarding school? Why did my stupid awkward relationship with Frank seem to excite everyone so much?

"Lily, are you okay?"

"Sure." Everyone knows . . . why?

"Lily, you shouldn't be so upset about it. Gossip always blows away in a week or so. Everyone's just so excited because you guys seem like such a perfect couple."

"Appearances can be deceiving, Johnny boy."

"Oh, so then what's wrong with your relationship?" His unnerving eyes peered my way, and I realized I was being far too forthcoming to this pleasant, if crazy, midget.

"Oh, ummm . . . it's just so early-we just got together and, and—People shouldn't already be calling us the perfect couple. I don't know if I'm comfortable with that."

"You're uncomfortable around Frank?"

"I didn't say that!" But oh so true.

"Is it because he is always coming on to you in the Gryffindor common room?"

"Where did you hear that!"

"From a Slytherin fourth year."

"You are far too well informed. Or, I suppose everyone is." I rested my head against the cool stonewall. Ah, to return to the peace of being celibate Lily.

"So," he murmured, "Are you uncomfortable with the speed he's taking things, or just with Frank?"

"Johnny, that's not-I mean-you really shouldn't pry into—"

"Do you not really want to be Frank's girlfriend?"

"I don't really see how that's any of your business, Johnny." I said waspishly.

"Oh come on Evans, I'd like to know too."

My head swiveled, again . . . equally painfully. Stepping out from a tapestry across from the hospital wing stood the elegantly coifed, but ever so irksome Sirius Black.

"Were you eavesdropping, Black?" I hissed.

"No, no," he said, twisting his mouth into a babyish pout, "I was just on my way to visit Remus in the hospital wing. He's been feeling sick. I'm an innocent passerby."

"Hardly innocent."

"But what about you Evans, I've seen you in the common room these past few nights, you can't claim innocent status anymore either."

"Let's go Johnny," I sighed. "You should get that bump reduced."

"Johnny," said Sirius, dropping the pout and gaining a delighted smirk, "Johnny Dawlish? Back in the hospital wing already?"

Johnny shot Sirius a look of deepest loathing, stormy eyes gathering lightning.

"How do you know Johnny," I asked Sirius.

"Oh, this little guy. I put him in the hospital wing more than a dozen times last year."

"What! You were jinxing a second year?" Some punishment was in order.

"No. His hospitalization was just an unfortunate side effect of getting even with the Slytherins. Poor little guy, he's a jinx magnet."

"You disgust me. Come on Johnny let's go." I pulled Johnny toward the door, but Sirius cut me off.

"Don't worry about it, Evans, I'll take him." He seized Johnny and then bent towards my ear, "but I'll want to talk to you later about our Head Boy." He had such a deep voice. I felt myself shiver, the hairs on the back of my neck raising.

I blinked and he was gone, Johnny too. Stupid Black, and his stupid cocky, though admittedly sexy, voice. I didn't want to give him the chance to harass me further (because Black really unnerves me) so I quickly ran back to the Gryffindor common room. Luckily, by then, it seemed Frank had gone up to his dorm.

I was safe, but really I needed to clarify some things with Frank, like how I'm not comfortable with the whole public displays of intimacy thing. I think I might feel some real attraction towards Frank, but how was I to sort out my feelings like this? We needed to have some real conversation, conversation that did not involve my hair getting severely mussed.

Hmmmm . . . speaking about mussed. Right before I went up to bed I saw Potter sharing the window seat with Emmeline's constantly mussed sister. They were reading some book together and chatting animatedly. If only Frank and I could be like that, studying, chatting, reading . . . ah, wouldn't that be lovely.

I wonder when they started dating, though. I haven't heard anything about it, yet. You'd think with the ability of the Hogwarts Gossip Mill this would already be big news. It's kinda funny me being the big news instead of Potter, what a total reversal.

Love,  
Lily

.

* * *

Transfiguration  
September 4th

**James, I'm bored. **

Then transfigure something, idiot.

**You can't transfigure boredom my friend. You can't transfigure boredom.**

My mum used to say that being bored reflects low intelligence because if one can't come up with something to do with the myriad of possibilities offered in this varied world they must be dumb indeed.

**Still bored.**

_Is this the new note taking class then? I don't think that this is a wise choice._

**Moony! You do care. I thought you were too busy avoiding women to pay attention to us, your lowly friends.**

Avoiding women? What are you referring to, Padfoot? Who is Moony avoiding?

_I am not avoiding anyone. I've just been busy. I need to finish all my work before full moon._

**Moony has been hiding from Mary in the library.**

The library? That doesn't seem like a very effective place to hide. If I were looking for Moony I'd check his bed, the kitchens, then the library.

_I've been studying in the library._

**Yeah, studying the noble art of heartbreaking. Why didn't you come to me? I could help.**

Is it because Moony is avoiding her that Mary looks so depressed lately?

**Yeah, poor thing. She's fallen for his wolfish charm and he won't even give her the time of day.**

Mary is really cool, Remus. She helped me trounce Fabian at quidditch. You should try talking to her.

**Like you should be giving him romantic advice. You said you were going to start dating Maggie, but you haven't said a word to her yet.**

I will. I'll talk to her soon.

_I'm not interested in Miss McDonald. And if she's interested in me, then she's seriously misguided._

**Prongs, are you still hesitating because of Evans? Because what with all her and Frank's armchair trysts we can now be sure that they're dating.**

It has nothing to do with Lily; I'm just trying to go about this the right way, to properly ask her out.

**Is there a proper way to ask someone out?**

Of course. For example, if I was Moony I would say "Dearest Miss McDonald, I'm sorry that I've been avoiding you these past few ways, but my natural shyness coupled with insecurities about my furry little secret make me hesitant to approach you. And yet, I can no longer hold back my feelings. Please, please, my dearest wouldest though study with me yon Friday? Perhaps we could also share some chocolate, but you must take the smaller portion because I love chocolate even more than you!"

**Oh, he'd certainly get the girl with that.**

_I honestly don't like her._

_**Is the new note taking class? McGonagall's class? This seems dangerous.**_

**No, no, Wormtail. Minnie is too busy conjuring kittens to bother with discipline, today. **

Do you think she'd let me keep one of the kittens?

**Prongs, why do you want a kitten?**

_You don't want a conjured kitten. They have a tendency of rotting away within a few months if the initial spell was weak._

_**Rotting kittens! That's disgusting. Guys, I still think notes in this class are dangerous.**_

**You're such a coward Peter. If you don't stop whining I'll sick Prong's rotting kitten on your wormy little—**

**.**

**

* * *

**

From Minerva McGonagall to Argus Filch:

James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew apprehended taking non-subject related notes within class. Detention for Potter, Black, and Lupin. Pettigrew is excused since the notes indicate that he attempted to stop the bad behavior.

.

* * *

From the notebooks of Sir Prongs namely James Potter

September 8, 1976

In the week since the whole Lily train incident I've been carefully steeling myself to approach Maggie about her offer. Not that she actually offered. No, more like Miss alarmingly forward dictated. She said she would be asking me out at some point, but that if I felt so impelled I could do the asking.

I want to tell Maggie that I'd be interested in a few hopefully distracting dates, but I don't really know how to go about it. Not that I haven't asked people out before, the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls, but I've never asked out someone in Gryffindor with the serious intent of starting a relationship. (Well . . . except Lily. But she's different.) My previous confrontation with Maggie was somewhat alarming, and I'm not exactly sure what tone to take. Maggie knows that I'm not genuinely attracted to her, so should I dispense with any flattery or a cute invitation and just have a mature discussion? That makes this feel rather more like a business deal than dating.

So, I gathered my courage, and after a week of fretting, approached her.

It was a Friday night, so the common room was packed. Maggie had a gaggle of friends surrounding her including Alice. As I approached the gaggle began to giggle, giggling gaggles how unpleasant.

"Hey Vance," I shouted, over the ruckus, "can I have a word?"

Maggie narrowed her eyes at me, but pointed to a table by the window. When we'd both pushed our way there Maggie started in on me, "The name is Maggie, not Vance, not Margaret, not Mary, and certainly not Pudding Face. I want you to call me Maggie."

"Okay, okay, sorry. But don't you think you're a mite bit sensitive about this? I'm just giving you adorable nicknames."

"Hardly adorable," she sighed. "James, you're not a younger sibling. You don't have to live in the shadow of exceedingly talented others who share your last name. If you were constantly compared to someone like Emmeline you'd start to get annoyed that no one can remember your name, too."

"Ah."

"Yes?"

"So, how are you?" Maggie didn't reply, but stared at me for several moments before getting up from her chair.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"Did you pull me away from my friends just so we could have a chat? I have better things to do than small talk," she said, testily.

"No, no. Sorry. I have something I actually need to say."

"What?"

"Will you-Could you sit down please?" She sat. I composed my thoughts. "So, ummm, I've been thinking about what you said when we last talked and, and I think maybe you made a few good points, and perhaps I could-We could- consider doing what you talked about." I am the most eloquent of men.

"Do you mean what I said about us dating?" she said her dark eyes lighting up

"Ummm, well to a point. That is, yes, sort of. I think I wouldn't mind trying-It would be advisable if we date a little bit."

"Date a little bit?" Her eyes raked slowly over me, giving me an unpleasant sense of being graded. "What caused this sudden change of heart? Is it because of that?" She pointed to two armchairs by the fire where Frank and Lily were sitting, though Frank seemed to be trying to persuade Lily to only use a single chair.

"No, it isn't because of that. It's because I think that you made some good points about trying new things, and relationships, and snogging, and . . . and—"

"And seeing Lily on the train really upset you that badly?"

"What? How did you-Never mind, I forgot that you know everything."

"I don't know everything," she huffed. "But everyone on the train saw Lily. Poor girl, she must be really embarrassed."

"Huh?"

"Lily doesn't enjoy public displays of intimacy. You can tell by watching her around Frank. She's not really an expert at blocking his advances, but that's just because she's inexperienced. Look you can really tell," she pointed over to the fireplace again.

Frank had failed on convincing Lily to sit on his lap, and they were now just chatting directly across from each other. He leaned closer to her and placed his hand on her thigh. Lily's eyes visibly widened. After a few panicked moments she crossed her legs knocking the hand off, but Frank didn't really seem to mind and just leaned a little closer.

"She's getting better," said Maggie. "She used to just tighten up and bear it, eyes darting all the while, but now she knows how to deflect."

"If she's not comfortable with it then why does she let Frank do it? Why is she even dating him?" There was something of a hopeful bubble swelling within my stomach. It didn't seem like this relationship would last that long.

"Don't look so happy," sniped Maggie. "It's only the beginning of their relationship. They're figuring each other out. It's bound to be awkward for a little while. I bet within a few weeks they'll have figured out their pace."

"But really," I huffed, "does Frank need to be so forceful? It's practically indecent."

"Yeah, Frank does seem to be rather physical. If he doesn't change his tact soon the relationship won't last long."

"What? I thought you said that this was only the beginning that they were just warming up! Now you're saying they won't last?"

"No, I said they were figuring each other out. Frank is smart, and I'm sure that he'll figure out that he needs to be less forceful, at least in public, soon. And if he doesn't, then Lily will probably break up with him, if she's brave enough."

"What do you mean 'at least in public' and 'if she's brave enough'? Will Frank continue to be forceful in private? And Lily is really brave!"

"Stop your whining James," Maggie sighed. "I don't want to hear about Lily and Frank anymore. I get enough of that from Alice. Didn't you want to ask me out?"

"Yes, I suppose." This was really one of the most awkward things I'd ever done. Dating just for the sake of it, is that really okay? Oh well, it's too late to back out now.

"So, Maggie, will you go out with me?" I muttered, my eyes wandering to the fireplace.

"Sure," she grinned, "but I want to keep it relatively secret for a while."

"Huh?" Now I was puzzled. She was the one who'd been so adamant about this in the first place, and now she wanted it to be a secret? "Why?"

"Because I don't just want to be just a distraction for you. I want a relationship. I honestly like you, and until I can win you over a little bit more, we shouldn't go broadcasting our relationship."

"Huh?" And I reiterate: Huh?

She rolled her eyes. "See scary Frank over there," I turned to the fireplace, and saw Frank, though not Lily. When had she left? "I don't want to force things like Frank. I want us to take things slowly, to become decently acquainted with each other before becoming intimate. If we do it that way then it won't ever be awkward like poor Lily and Frank."

"So, what you're saying is you want us to be secretly dating until we're better friends? Then why be dating at all?"

"Because the obligation that you'll feel to spend time with me if we're dating will help us become friends."

Staring at Maggie I tried to figure her out. She's alarmingly straight forward, but she's honest. She's highly observant and either wise beyond her years or slightly mad. She's always messy, yet, as Sirius said, rather beautiful in a dark sort of intimidating way. I like her, and I think that we could eventually become really good friends, but could I ever feel genuine attraction for this girl? Could her proximity so sharpen the world the way Lily did for me, making me not only intensely aware of my own body, but the grains in the wood, the motes twirling in sunbeams, every movement of the wind, especially if it's caused by her breath?

I don't know, and I guess that's why I'm doing this, to see if it's even possible for me to notice someone else.

"Alright then, so what sort of things do we do on dates while we're working on being friends?"

"Well think about it, James, what do you do with your friends?"

So . . . I thought about it. "We pull pranks, we sneak around the castle, we play quidditch, we eat in the kitchens, we jinx Slytherins, we play gobstones, we hide Peter's socks—"

Maggie covered my mouth. "Enough! Do you guys ever just talk?"

I pushed her hand off, noting the dirt crusted in her nails. "Well, yes, the talking occurs within the other activities."

"Good. Then we can talk."

"Talk about what?"

"About this," she said, smiling wickedly, and pulling a bright book out from behind her embossed with the title _Greatest Quidditch Moments of the Twentieth Century!_

Beneath the title was a photograph of a thin man swan diving off his broom towards a glittering snitch thirty feet below him. It looked like a smashing read even if it was rather presumptuous of the book to assume that it contained the best moves of a non-completed century.

"They published this after Kleever's catch during the cup last year. They figured that that at least would never be topped. I don't know about the catch, but I bet a quidditch match will never be bloodier than that."

"Did-did you actually see the match?" My father is high up in the ministry and even we hadn't been able to get tickets.

"Yeah, I have a cousin on United."

"No!"

In hindsight, it seems a mite bit suspicious that Maggie had that conversation starter so conveniently to hand, but I don't resent her conniving ways because we had a bloody good time. After a heated debate over what actually are the greatest quidditch moments of the twentieth century, I convinced her to try out for the team. She says she was always hesitant to join before because all the chasers slots were full and that's the only position she really likes, but with Fabian gone, she's almost assuredly in.

Thus begins my relationship with Maggie Vance.

Sirius just came into our dorm with his secret face on. Because I'm scribbling in the corner and not paying attention to him, he's making as many distracting noises as possible. I'm tired so I'll deal with him tomorrow

Yours,  
James

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* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, and please drop a review. Much love

_Droopy Breeches_


	12. Of Professors and Pillows

**Author's Note: **I've been out of town, so I haven't updated for a while. I was also in an area lacking internet, so I wasn't able to respond to your reviews. I'm very sorry for that, but thank you, thank you for reviewing so much. I've passed the hundred marker and I'm just giddy with glee! Please continue to review. It sends me into such rapture. Really.

Oddly, this is the third chapter with P alliteration for the title. I honestly don't plan it. I write the chapters and then I name them based on content. I wonder why this keeps happening?

Love,

_Droopy Breeches_

_._

_

* * *

_

From the Notebooks of Sir Prongs namely James Potter

September 15, 1976

Today a most unusual event occurred. Our Arithmancy teacher, the homework-heaping fiend that she is, gave us no homework. What's more she hardly gave us any work in class either.

At the start of the lesson she walked out, almost tripped over Susan Knightly's desk, and then told us to hand in our homework and do the work on the board. Then she wafted over to her desk to gaze whimsically at sunbeams. I'm fine with teachers occasionally feeling the need to be negligent and giving busy work, but this was just so out of character for Professor Vector.

She's been teaching at Hogwarts for only three years, but she has already developed a reputation as one of its most formidable professors. She can't hold a candle to McGonagall in the way of piercing glares or thin lips, but what she lacks in physical intimidation she more than makes up for in the sheer bulk of work she gives us.

So then why is she humming in the corner, and playing with her hair like that?

It took me around ten minutes to finish the problems she'd written up, and then I fell to doodling. It's a pity it had to be in Arithmancy that the professor went insane. If it were any other class I'd have had my mates to goof off with. As it is, the only person I really know in Arithmancy is Lily, and, well, she's not normally up for a good chat with me. But even if she doesn't want to talk at least she gives me a nice view. It's quite easy to pretend to be gazing wistfully out the window while really peeking a Lily as she scribbles away. She's so responsible working on an essay in this virtual free period.

"Are you dating Emmeline's sister?"

Huh? Where did that come from? I looked up from the flowers I'd been doodling and saw Lily staring directly at me.

"Huh? Ummm . . . What did you say?"

"You know, that girl, the messy—" she pulled back looking embarrassed. "The dark-haired one. I think her name is Minnie or Molly or something."

"Ah, Maggie."

"Yes. Are you dating her?"

Why did she want to know, and where did she get that impression? Neither Maggie nor I had gone around telling people about our odd little arrangement. Of course, I'd told my mates about it, but I'd also specified that until Maggie gave permission they weren't allowed to go blabbing about it. So, who had told Lily? And how do I respond to her question?

"What gave you that impression?" I asked, deciding that deflection was probably the best option here.

"I-I just have seen you two together a lot recently. But if you were, that would be nice. She's a really pretty girl and Emmeline's mentioned that she's a really good quidditch player. So, I guess that would be good for you . . . " she trailed off, and looked away demurely.

So, no one had told Lily. She'd just guessed after seeing us together and she thought it was great, a real brick to the stomach. But still, she'd initiated a conversation. I should keep her talking. I wanted her to turn back to me.

"So," I said, jokingly, "do you have any idea what's wrong with Professor Vector."

Lily sighed, a low musical sound. "She's in love. Can't you tell?"

"Is that why she's taken to scooping up the sunbeams like that?"

"Yeah, it does look she's paying obeisance to nature, but I imagine love can make even her a little bit dotty." Obeisance . . . nice word. I should store that away for future use.

"You don't seem to be acting dotty." I noted, unthinking.

"Well-I-don't-I-It's too soon-I'm not—" she stopped and looked down, her voice petering out.

It took a moment for comprehension to sink in. I'd just basically said that she was in love with Frank. I'd upset her, either by doubting her love for Frank or by accusing her of love too soon. Really, it didn't matter how; I just needed to distract her.

"So, who is Professor Vector in love with then? I hope it's not Slughorn." My joking tone startled her. She momentarily bit the inside of her lip, which all truly keen Lily observers know indicates annoyance. Still, better annoyed then embarrassed.

"I don't actually know, but I have a theory. I've seen her talking to Professor Harrington's replacement Professor Briggs during dinner, and she gets a little bit like she is now."

"Well that's a pity. If it's Briggs then their love is doomed."

"Huh? That's a very pessimistic view. True, Professor Briggs is exceptionally handsome, but she's not all that bad looking herself."

"I'm not talking about that," I laughed. "I couldn't care less about their looks. I just meant that Briggs is the new Defense teacher, so he'll be gone within a year. It'll be a short romance."

"Oh, I hadn't thought about that," said Lily. "Still, I hope that she gets to have a year full of romance. Professor Vector deserves some happiness."

"Yeah, and one year full of love is worth more than a hundred empty ones."

Lily stared at me for a few moments then inexplicably giggled. I was glad that I hadn't shortened the one year to one day, as had been my first inclination.

"So, what makes you such an expert on telling when people are in love?"

"Ah, well, my sister recently got engaged."

"Oh." I think I'd heard before that Lily had a sister, but I'd never heard her talk about her. The thought of another pair of eyes like Lily's out in the world seemed somehow unlikely, but maybe Lily's sister looked just like her. I suppose another Lily would only benefit the world, but I felt slightly jealous of the unknown fiancée.

"So, your sister was all giggly and distracted? That must have been hard to bear."

"Yes, very." Her eyes drifted towards Professor Vector, but there was no amusement within their depths. "My sister . . . " she said slowly, "isn't quite like Professor Vector. If anything, her taste isn't so fine."

"You don't approve of your sister's choice? Are you just overprotective?" I tried to keep my tone joking, but I was also truly interested.

"I don't think there's anyone who could approve of my sister's choice. Never mind. It doesn't matter. It's none of my business, anyway. So, are you dating that girl—Maggie?"

How did we come back to this subject, honestly? Oh well.

"Not really, right now we're just working on our friendship. It's not like you and Frank, at least."

"Ah."

"Did you two get together this summer in Godric's Hollow? I guess I was just so distracted that I didn't even notice your romance. So, how did it happen?"

I expected Lily to shoot back with a _Sod off Potter _or an _It's none of your business_, but she didn't. Instead she leaned back on her chair and nibbled on her quill resignedly. After a few moments she mumbled, "He coerced me."

"What?"

At that unfortunate moment, Professor Vector's eyes unglazed and she burst from her abstraction. Noticing that everyone had finished their problems she dismissed class beaming all the while.

Lily breathed a sigh of relief, gathered her books, and was gone in a trice.

Darn it. Just when the conversation was getting interesting. Could it be that Arithmancy might offer the necessary opportunity to get to know Lily better? That this tortuous period would yield unexpected delight?

I doubt it. Professor Vector may be all twitterpated today, but what about next class? What about when she discovers that Professor Briggs carries a secret passion for Professor Sinistra? What about when to console herself she starts dating Slughorn, even though she doesn't love him like she loves Sinistra—I mean Briggs—What about then? Maybe in her frustration and mild anguish she'll start to assign so much homework that I won't even be able to see Lily over the heap. It's best not to get too hopeful. It's best to just work with what you have.

And it's cruel of me to still think of pursuing Lily when I'm supposed to be dating Maggie. Except that we're not dating we're working on our friendship. So, isn't it all right if Lily and I are working on our friendship, too?

Nope, nope, nope. Even if I'm secretively dating not dating I need to focus and remember that Lily is taken, and I'm supposed to be learning how to get over her.

I need to remember that even if Sirius says that Lily basically admitted to not being happy in her relationship with Frank Sirius isn't always reliable, and I like Frank. Frank likes Lily, and I'd never do anything to hurt Frank. What's more, it's not like I have the ability to take Lily from Frank. She didn't want me before, and she's not likely to have suddenly changed her tune now.

Oh well. Enough moping. I shall write about happier things. And by happier, I mean not about Lily.

1. Maggie made it on to the quidditch team. So, I guess that will give us even more opportunities to work on our friendship.

2. My mother sent me a care package loaded with sweets yesterday. True, Remus and Peter have since devoured them all, but I got to enjoy a small taste of home.

3. Also, with the care package from mum came a letter. She says that dad has had a lot of success recently at work. He has a difficult job. He is a Wizengamot Lawbinder, which means he not only serves on the court, but reviews and revises wizard law. It seems immensely tedious, but he's always saying that it's not enough to just capture dark wizards if the system wont punish them, so he has spent years trying to make harsher laws especially on use of unforgivable curses and muggle baiting. Mum says that dad recently got through a law that makes use of any Unforgiveables on muggles equal to if they were used on wizards. This success will also mean that dad will be able to be home a bit more often and that should perk up mum.

4. Remus has started to do his homework in our dorm in an effort to avoid Mary. I don't support the avoidance, but now that he's doing his homework with us it's so much easier to bully answers out of him. I wish he'd taken Arithmancy though. Instead he took Runes because he just sees Arithmancy as an attempt to make fortune telling more reputable. True, it may have somewhat to do with fortune telling, but it's bloody hard and that should give it a little bit of credibility.

5. And . . . ummm, Remus is feeling much better now that the full moon has passed.

Darn it. A list of five things not related to Lily . . . hardly impressive, hardly impressive at all.

Oh well, I'm just human. It will take me a little bit of time to forget Lily. It will take a little bit of time to stop obsessing about my romantic goal of, I don't know, three . . . four years. Give me a little bit of time. I'll lick it.

Yours,  
James

.

* * *

Potions  
September 25th

**Remus, what think you of making this the new note taking class?**

_**Sirius, be careful where you throw your notes. You made me spill armadillo bile all over the table. If it had gotten in my anxiety elixir the whole thing would have been ruined.**_

**Whatever, Petey. You ruined your elixir yourself when you added the cockroach eyes before the tenticula venom.**

_**If you noticed me doing this then why didn't you stop me? How am I going to fix this now?**_

**Remus, what think you of making this the new note taking class?**

_This class is a good deal more hands on then Transfiguration. Though it's easier to get away with note taking in this class, I have a feeling that our work will suffer. _

Remus, be careful where you throw your notes. You made me spill badger pus all over the table. Luckily, my elixir is still fine.

**Look at how the bile is reacting to the pus. Very colorful, very colorful indeed. **

Remus, is it true that you and Mary were yelling at each other in the library? What induced you to upset the peace and quite of that studious sanctum?

**Prongs, do you just throw vocabulary words into our notes at random? I get the need to improve Peter's conversation, but it's a little bit ridiculous.**

Sanctum is hardly a difficult word.

**But, really, when does sanctum come up in casual conversation 'Hey fellas I'm exhausted I guess I'll just head up to my sanctum for a little nap.' See. It just sounds odd.**

_I wouldn't say I was yelling at her in the library. We were just talking._

But you've been so resolutely not talking lately that you talking is big news.

**I hope that in the course of your talking you resolved your issues and that the two of you are now a horrendously happy hand-holding couple.**

How care you criticize me for vocabulary when you have such a penchant for alliteration.

_**James, be careful where you throw your notes. You made me spill pixie blood all over the table. **_

**Really, the ingredients of this potion are highly unpleasant. Do you think that maybe the threat of having to drink it is what induces the anxiety? **

True. What with blood, pus, and bile there are hardly any precious bodily fluids missing from this concoction.

**I can think of a few.**

_How tasteful of you. _

But really, Remus, tell us about your tryst with Mary in the library.

**Tryst is pretty bad too.**

_There was no tryst. There was only a conversation in which I established that Mary and I will not be holding-hands or having trysts, ever._

Cold, Man, cold.

**What's wrong with Mary?**

_Nothing is wrong with Mary. I just have no intention of inflicting my condition on anyone else._

**Unless you were planning on biting her during one of your dates, which is a mite bit more kinky than I'd expect from you, how is dating her inflicting your condition?**

_I'd rather not waste time writing about this any more. Clearly, this class in not a good note taking class. In our distraction both Peter and James have ruined their potions and you've barely started, Sirius. Plus, all the spilled fluids are starting to eat through the table._

Crap! When did I ruin my potion? Why didn't you warn me, Remus?

**Guys, the smoke is attracting Slughorn. Hide the notes.**

**.**

**

* * *

**

From Horace Slughorn to Argus Filch:

James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew apprehended for destroying a table in the Potions classroom and causing a large explosion by throwing parchment into their caldrons. Several students, including the perpetrators, and Professor Slughorn badly burned in explosion. Also, severe anxiety was noted in the rest of the classroom. Double detention.

.

* * *

My Prefect Notebook

September 27, 1976

I've talked to Frank. I can't believe I wasted so much time fretting about it because when I finally got around to it, it was so easy. It was refreshingly easy, astonishingly easy, ludicrously easy.

I just sat next to Frank during breakfast and said, "Frank, I don't want to be so public with, ah, ummm, affection in the common room. In fact, I think we should sort of slow down the pace we're taking things in general, and just talk a little bit more, take a little bit more time to get to know each other. Don't think I'm a prude or that I hate you or something because I don't I just I'm feeling awkward with all these rumors, and I've never really been able to deal with gossip, and suddenly I'm the target of it all, and even first years know, and when I was a first year I certainly had no idea about who was snogging who, which just gives me the idea that we're definitely being way too public and going way to fast. So, can we slow down?"

Throughout the course of my rant I'd been gradually increasing in volume and pitch, and as I finished several of the people surrounding Frank were staring quite noticeably. Alice Fenwick, directly across from Frank, had bacon drooping from her mouth as she gaped.

But Frank, totally nonplussed, just turned to me and said, "okay" then resumed his toast.

I felt that was somewhat inconclusive so I fished for a little bit more, "And you're just totally okay with that?"

"Yup."

"You don't even have any opinion on this matter?"

"Well actually, Lily," he said giving me a puzzled look, "I'm confused that you're only bringing this up now. If you'd just told me on the get go we could probably have avoided most of the rumors."

"Ah."

And I left, leaving behind the poor puzzled Frank and all of his gaping compatriots. That's why I feel like a fool. Somehow I'd worked up this vision of Frank as a lusty irascible demon, and I was terrified to confront him. Yet, when I did he proved to be exceedingly agreeable. I need to stop thinking the worst of people, and of myself. I have this horrible tendency just to assume that I will be immediately hated in any situation I enter. Thus, I expect extreme reactions, but no. Frank proved to be the decent, lovely fellow that I've always known he is. Really, he's great. Really, I'm lucky. I have such a great boyfriend. So great. Really.

Anyway, after resolving things with Frank and lowering my self-confidence I trooped up to my dorm and ran into Mary and Marlene, Marlene lying on her stomach chin perched on her hands and Mary buried in a pillow. I sensed an emotional discussion, so I tried to slip out.

Marlene caught me. "Lily, get your arse in here. Mary and I need your input on a serious issue."

"Guys, I should really hurry off I have so much homework and then prefect duty and then I should probably write my mum."

"Lily, it's Sunday morning. You have no prefect duty, and if you have any unfinished homework, which I doubt, then you have hours to complete it. That leaves you with plenty of time to spend with us, your much neglected best friends."

Drat! Foiled. If only it was just Mary here, she's easily pushed off with an excuse, but Marlene will not be deterred. A rampaging herd of hippogriffs couldn't pull her off my back when she's determined to cling on. Oh well. I'll bite.

"So then, what are we talking about?" I asked, sliding onto the bed.

"Mary is feeling depressed and I and now we are pepping her up."

"I'm right here," moaned Mary from within the pillow. "Don't talk about me like I can't hear you. Stop treating me like I'm mental; I'm not mental."

"We know darling," said Marlene, patting her head. "You're not the least bit mental. We know." Then Marlene leaned over to my ear and whispered, "She's upset about Remus." This was a nice if futile attempt at subtlety. Marlene's whispers are carrying at best.

"Don't talk about Remus," moaned the pillow. "I don't want to hear about Remus anymore."

"Wait, Mary," I asked, "Did something happen with Remus? Did he say something to you? Do you need me to talk to him?"

"See," shrieked Mary, "I told you not mention Remus to Lily. Now you've got her fretting when nothing even happened."

"Oh don't bother about that," said Marlene. "If not this Lily would be fretting about something else. You know how she gets her kicks from it. She's a fretaholic."

"I'm not a fretaholic! Is that really how you guys see me? How long have you thought this?"

"So don't worry about Lily," continued Marlene, " Let us worry about you. You've been acting depressed and I know that bookish git has something to do with it."

"He's not a git. He's really a really nice fellow. I'm just being silly."

"Wait I still have no idea what's going on here," I said. " Mary, just tell me what's bothering you."

"Lily, you're so lucky that the guy you like returns your feelings. Cause this, this thing I'm feeling, this sucks," sniffed Mary.

"Which guy?"

"Frank, Lily, Frank," said Marlene, staring at me with raised brows.

"Ah. Right." Whoops. That was dumb of me. Now Marlene is bound to be suspicious about the depth of my affection and what not. But still, just because I'm currently _happy_ doesn't mean I'm an utter stranger to heartache. When I was a third year I was rather madly into Fabian's brother Gideon. But of course, he was too old for me, and Fabian just hated that I liked him. He gave me a big spiel about avoiding guys who were so clearly trouble. Then, when I pointed out the familial similarities he got all huffy. Man, I'm going to miss Fabian.

Anyway, I then told Mary that I knew the pangs of rejection.

Hearing that she cackled for a few moments, her sorrow blistered voice cracking in an eerie fashion. "You? When have you ever had a boy actually reject you? When have you had someone tell you straight out that you're impossible to love?"

"Gideon. Remember? I used to have such a thing for him."

"He never actually rejected you. You were never brave enough to confess to him, and good thing too because you were thirteen and he was eighteen. I doubt he'd reject you now."

"I'd hope he would," added Marlene. "Considering that he's recently married."

"Is he really? I thought Fabian said that he broke off the engagement."

"Maybe he did. Maybe I'm thinking of someone else."

"Could you be thinking of Damien Goldstein?"

"Oh, is he married? I hope not that bloke was melt in your mouth delicious. No woman should have him except me."

"Hey, not fair!"

"Will you two go gossip elsewhere?" hissed Mary.

"Sorry dear," said Marlene. "I'm focused on you again. So, are you saying that Remus out and out rejected you? That doesn't seem like him."

"I forced him to it. Remus and I have been decent friends for a few years now. He'd help me study, especially with Runes, which I was absolute rubbish with. Anyway, last year we got really close. Studying with him was so fun because he was so kind, and smart, and even occasionally funny. I was completely in love with him, but I didn't go doing anything about it because I had no idea how he felt, and I was sure he couldn't reciprocate, and then, and then I did something stupid." She buried her face in the pillow again, her hands contorted, wrenching the colored fabric.

Really. How can they accuse me of being over dramatic?

"Mary, Mary dear," urged Marlene. "What did you do? You can tell me."

"I-I wanted advice. I wanted someone to help me figure out Remus's feelings. I didn't know what to do. So, so I figured I should talk to his friends, and I-I-"

"Oh no Mary," I moaned. "Which one did you talk to?"

"I didn't really intend to, but he was teasing me, and it just came out, and he seemed so eager to help, and he promised to be discreet."

"Which one?"

"Sirius," she muttered, in a pained whisper.

"Really Mary," sighed Marlene. "How daft can you get? You confide in Black and honestly expect him to be discreet. The boy's a natural showboat; he doesn't have a discreet bone in his body."

"I know it was stupid. I regret it. A couple weeks after talking to Sirius I started seeing Remus less and less. It was at the end of the year, so I thought he might just be busy with exams, but this summer he didn't answer a single one of my letters. When I saw him in Godric's Hollow he avoided me like I had dragon pox. So, I thought I'd give him a little bit of space once we got back to school and see if that helped. Only it hasn't helped at all. His avoidance has been getting really blatant. I'd walk into the library and he'd immediately leave even though I wasn't heading for his table or anything. Last week I finally got fed up with it and confronted him. I asked him why he was avoiding me, and he lied and said he wasn't. And that, that just made me blow up. I told him that if he didn't like me than he should just be a man and tell me to my face. But he said that it wasn't that he didn't like me but that he couldn't be in a relationship with me or anyone else."

Angry tears gathered at the corners of Mary's eyes. She was trembling, from either rage or sorrow, or perhaps both.

"What kind of cock-in-bull excuse is that?" asked Marlene.

"That's what I thought, so I told him that if he had another girlfriend or someone else then he'd been a real git leading me on all those months in the library. He started to get really annoyed then. He said that he thought I genuinely needed help studying that I had taken advantage of him wasting his time just because I was trying to seduce him, and that he wouldn't have helped me at all if I was going to assume all this romantic shit."

"I'll kill him, the smarmy—" spat Marlene.

"And that's not even the worst part."

"What did he say next, Mary?" I asked.

"I grew rather pathetic then. I apologized and said that I hadn't meant to accuse him, that I liked him as a friend before I developed romantic feelings, and that if he didn't have any romantic feelings toward me then we could just continue being friends. Then-then he said that we probably shouldn't be that either because-because he didn't want me getting my hopes up and it was impossible for us to ever be together like-like I wanted."

"Oh, Mary."

"I know. Isn't it pathetic? I'm so repulsive that not only will he not date me, but he dumped me as a friend."

"Would you like me to dump his corpse in the lake for you?" said Marlene, licking her chops. This, typical of Marlene, wasn't exactly comforting, and Mary collapsed into the pillow once more, her back trembling in her angst.

It's interesting. Now that I think about it, Remus, despite being relatively good-looking and normally quite nice, hasn't ever dated any one that I've heard of. I might just be ignorant to the romantic goings on of Hogwarts, but normally the Marauder's romance is big news. Remus is certainly desirable, so, the question is: does Remus avoid romance because he doesn't feel like bothering with it (which I would completely understand) or is there some other more personal reason?

Severus-crap-Snape used to tell me all these theories he had about Remus. I didn't put much stock in them before, but they weren't totally implausible. Remus could be a werewolf, couldn't he? I don't know much about werewolves, as in the real ones, not the muggle superstitions, but most wizards consider them really dangerous. Would Dumbledore really allow a werewolf to go to Hogwarts?

I shouldn't worry about it too much. Still, if I'm sure of anything I'm sure that Remus is a good person, a person who wouldn't deliberately hurt Mary unless he felt he had a very good reason.

Marlene and I continued to comfort Mary until we'd built her up from borderline suicidal to just minor self-loathing. Now that I've had time to ruminate on the matter, I can't blame Remus. I think the bulk of the blame rests on the heads of Black and Potter. Their taunting and teasing is what caused Remus to avoid Mary in the first place. If they'd have just held their tongues then Remus and Mary would still be library buddies, and she wouldn't be so utterly wretched.

I think Marlene has the right idea. It's time to give the Marauders a taste of my mind.

Love,  
Lily

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* * *

**A/N: **Please drop some reviews my way you lovely, lovely, people.

Cheerio,

_Droopy Breeches._


	13. Of Fights and Labeling

So, I haven't updated in a long, long time. But recently a review inspired me (see, you do have power), and so I decided I will try despite my busy schedule to keep this going. In fact, I wrote out a whole plot outline, so I will progress if only I can keep up the motivation. Anyway, thanks for reading. Please review.

Yours,

_Droopy Breeches_

* * *

From the Notebooks of Sir Prongs namely James Potter

September 28, 1976

It seems that the past week hasn't yet torn the rose colored glasses off Professor Vector. She's sitting over on her desk humming. Every few minutes her joy bursts its bounds and she sings a few words. The last snatch I caught was something about rolling on the banks by the river. I wonder if she's singing an actual song or just from experience?

This September has held onto summer's warmth, yet fall is tangible in the taste of air, the cider tang that always sets my lungs smiling. What a wonderful time for love and, of course, quidditch. I'm not sure if there is a river on the grounds, but I'd give a giddy galleon to be spending a few hours rolling in the warm grass, paying obeisance to the sunlight, preferably accompanied by some incredibly attractive girl, or maybe Sirius. Not that they'd serve the same purpose, but if I can't have the girl I might as well have good company.

Speaking of the girl, Professor Vector's distraction provides an ideal opportunity for more Lily watching. What's more the sun streaming through the windows is working wonders upon the color of her hair, almost greenish, there must be bronze hidden in the red. Ah, the hidden wonders of Lily. I really know so little about her, her personality, not her appearance; I know a good deal about her appearance. What mysteries lie behind those startling, glaring eyes? For example, why are they glaring right now? Will I ever know? I suppose I could be brave. I could talk to her. Alright, I'll try.

"So, it seems like things with Professor Briggs are going well," I said, smiling at the glaring girl.

"What?" her glare turned towards me.

"Oh, just that we continue have a rather light work load which means that things with Briggs must still be going well, in their relationship, if they have a relationship . . . I suppose."

"Right."

"So, that's good; love is always good, you know. Well not always good, but in her case it'd be good . . . wouldn't it?" I always seem to wax so elegant when talking to Lily. I'm either an absolute git or a stuttering dullard.

"So when Professor Vector loves Briggs it's good, but when Mary likes Remus it's absolutely hilarious."

"What?" I was utterly baffled, but she continued without further explanation.

"Was it just because it was Mary? Do you have some objection to her? Is she not good enough for your friend? Not rich enough, or pretty enough, or clever enough? Or is this some twisted blood thing? Did you not want her to date Remus because she's muggleborn?"

Lily's accusations, or at least what I thought she was accusing me of, were bordering on utterly unjust so I felt the need to pipe in, "I'm not entirely sure of what you're talking about, but I would never forbid Remus from dating a muggleborn. As if I even have that power! Remus is the one always telling me what to do; not that I always, or often, listen."

"Well that's clear," she spat.

"What's clear? Are we fighting, Lily? Because normally I'm aware when we're fighting. Could you tell me what we're fighting about? I feel at a great disadvantage in my current state of ignorance."

"Well of course you're ignorant about it. Of course you'd never stop and think about the results of your teasing. You, you and Sirius, you never think at all."

At this point I compiled a list of the potential things that Lily could be mad at me for:

1. Johnny Dawlish, again. It's really quite astounding actually, the number of times I've hexed, maimed, knocked out, or otherwise bludgeoned that kid, especially considering that I've only done it on purpose around three times.

2. The opening year prank, which we pulled last week. Really, considering our usual mayhem, enchanting all the food on the Slytherin's table to taste like parsnips was quite mild.

3. Imagining rolling around by the river with a girl who looks eerily similar to her.

4. Because I'm me and she's she.

Honestly, that's probably it. I really haven't done anything that deserves her ire. And if she's upset for the reason I think she's upset, which I think has something to do with Remus and Mary, who I think had a fight recently, which I think was about the fact that Remus doesn't want to date because of his furry little problem, then how am I at fault here?

"Lily, how am I at fault here?"

"Because you and Sirius teased Remus about Mary after Sirius coerced a confession from her."

"No I didn't."

"Then why did Remus abandon Mary? Who else taught him to be such a git if not you two?"

This was totally, completely unfair. I understand if Lily has a bad opinion of me. After all the exhibitionist hexing I did last year I completely deserve it, but I've been working on it. I've definitely improved. In fact, I haven't shown off in front of her since last June (Admittedly, I didn't see her that often this summer, but _still_!) But, basically, I'm not involved in this issue at all. I've noticed Sirius heckling Remus, but I didn't know he had any special motive to his behavior. I didn't know anything!

"Remus is perfectly capable of being a git in his own right. He's a rather smart fellow and can pull off most things without Sirius and I walking him through it."

"I'm sure he's capable of it, but the point is that you two ridiculed a young girl, who is a really sweet person, and likely ten times better than Remus deserves, until she just became a joke."

I was getting really frustrated now; she just wasn't getting the point. "No I didn't. I didn't tease Remus; I didn't ridicule Mary; I didn't even know about her crush, or at least officially. After a while I picked up on it because she was being rather obvious and I'm not a total dullard, especially not about women, who often have crushes on me, so I know the signs."

"You are unbelievably arrogant," hissed Lily, and the familiar words almost brought a smile to my face; it had been a while since I heard them. Still, it seems Lily had picked up only on the joke and none of the actual substance of my statement.

"That may be, but I'm also unbelievably innocent. You get that I'm unbelievably innocent, right?"

Lily's eyebrows danced and shivered, she was laughing inside; why was she laughing inside? "Innocent," she murmured, "a playboy like you? I'll never believe that."

"I'm not a playboy! I'm not even remotely a playboy! I never play! Never!" A smirk. "I mean I never play as in fool around with girls! Never!"

"You just bragged about all the women throwing themselves at your feet. Though really, I doubt any girl ignorant and immature enough to want you could be deemed a woman. You take advantage of mere children."

Wow, Lily is certainly good at spitting venom, though her aim is bad; as if I care about the maturity level of the girls who like me. "Just because I have a plethora of girls to hand doesn't mean I'm taking advantage of them. The adoration is just one of the perks of being me; I certainly don't take advantage of it; everyone knows that. You should know that. When was the last time I even dated someone?"

"You're dating Molly!"

"No I'm dating Maggie!"

"A-ha!" shrieked Lily, pointing a polished finger at me; all around us, the Ravenclaws turned their ears to listen. "So you admit it! You are dating someone!"

Drats! Foiled.

"Yes, sort of, in a sense, not officially—Why do you even care? Why should my dating habits affect you?"

"I don't care, _Potter_," It had been a while since I'd heard that, too. She has such a way of saying it, thrust rippling from her lips, washing darkly over me, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. " I was proving a point. Only _you _could be so deluded as to think I care who you date."

"Well I care who _you_ date, Evans. I want you to be happy, and I'm just thrilled that you're together with Frank. He's certainly a nice guy, and he deserves a sweet, _honest _girl like you, a girl who'd never lie to him or feign her emotions, but who will always be upfront with him, who'd never lead him on."

This statement was a risky venture on my part, the desired result depended on Sirius's speculations being true: that all was not glorious in paradise. And to my great pleasure, Lily seemed slightly miffed, though that could just be due to the argument we were in the midst of.

"You're right. I'd never lead him on. Frank is a good person and a wonderful boyfriend, I'm lucky to have him."

"I'm happy you're so lucky," I said.

"And it's lucky you're so happy," she replied. "I assume this means you won't be pursuing me any more."

"You're right in your assumption. I won't be pursuing you any more."

"Good. I was tired of that joke. I'm glad."

"And I'm glad you're glad. I certainly want you to be glad. You being glad is essential and important to me, so knowing that you're glad, well, it really makes me glad."

"Ditto, and on and on," she smirked, the tension dissipating like a bad odor. Had she forgiven me for the thing she shouldn't even have been mad about in the first place?

"And you're right," she smiled. It seems she had. "Things with Professor Briggs seem to be going very well. I wish them all the happiness of a perfect year."

Then she turned away, wrinkles round her eyes relaxed; glare gone. The Ravenclaws surrounding us turned away, disappointed at the lack of blood.

What in Gryffindor's name just happened? Lily and I just publicly argued, _normal_, for irrational reasons, _normal_, said cruel and often inaccurate things, _normal, _then ended amicably with smiles all around, _Whaaa?_

Odd, odd indeed.

James

.

* * *

My Prefect Notebook

October 3, 1976

It's that time of year again, the first weekend in October, Hogsmeade weekend. Normally, this is when Mary, Marlene, and I would take the opportunity to gorge ourselves down at the Three Broomsticks before wandering the village to our hearts delight. But, alas, times have changed. Mary isn't feeling up to heading down this weekend and Marlene's reserved the whole day for her latest Ravenclaw conquest.

Even I, I who vowed to never let the size of my waistline discourage me from gorging, find myself otherwise engaged. I promised Frank, and I'm a woman of my word. So, away we go to Hogsmeade, on our first official date.

The day started out lovely, birds chirping, sun shining, first years giggling, and the conversation flowing quite naturally because Frank really is an immensely well-educated boy. He's got a real knack for Herbology and was telling me about all sorts of exotic plants that Professor Arbor plans to buy this year when we arrived in the little village.

"So, Lily, what strikes your fancy? Where do you want to go?"

This is where my lack of previous dating experience comes back to bite me. I had no idea what kind of places couples normally frequent in Hogsmeade. This place is Hogwarts's dating paradise, so surely there must be a few good spots, but I was darned if I knew them.

"Ah, wherever you want to go, Frank. I am entirely in your hands," I stammered, hoping it came out flirty, as intended, and not kinky, as definitely not, not ever, never, ever intended.

"Come on Lily," he smiled, "I want to see some of your favorite places before I show you my secret spots." Was that also supposed to be flirty? Because it didn't sound that way, it sounded kinky—Kinky!

"So, where to?" asked Frank, tilting his head with a sparrowish air.

"Ah-umm-well—Scrivenshafts! Let's go to Scrivenshafts!" It was the first place that popped into my head, and possibly the least romantic locale in Hogesmeade. But maybe that was for the best, and I did need some new quills . . .

"Alright," he said slowly, digesting the idea, "fine; we can head to Scrivenshafts. If that's really what you want to—I mean, where you want to go."

"Yes Frank. That's really where I want to go."

So Frank, ever the Gentleman, led me over to Scrivenshafts (where I proceeded to do my shopping), the post office (A letter for Ma and Da), and an adorable bookstore called the Parchment Place (for the latest potion periodical).

"Any more errands, Lily?" sighed Frank.

"No, all I need is a new cauldron, but you can't get reputable ones in Hogesmeade. I'll have to send for one from the Diagon suppliers—They, at least, know a thing or two about appropriate cauldron thickness."

"Appropriate cauldron thickness!" lamented Frank. "Lily, Lily, Lily . . . I'm going to force you to have some fun, even if the effort kills us both."

"I have fun. Whenever Mary, Marlene and I come down here we gorge ourselves in Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. Gorging oneself is fun—at least at the time it is!"

"Well, then you need to learn to have fun with more than just your friends; you need to learn to have fun with your _**boyfriend**_."

Oh my. Frank just labeled us. Frank just labeled us. Don't we have to have some sort of discussion before he can do that? Dating is one thing, but now we're labeled. What? When?

"And I know just how we'll do it," burst out Frank, his former sighing self crumbling away when faced with the prospect of an end to tedium.

"How?"

"We'll gorge ourselves at Honeydukes!"

"But Frank, that's sort of my friend thing."

"And now it can be sort of your _**boyfriend**_ thing."

He was feeling forceful, and seized my hand. I wasn't feeling forceful, so I didn't even try to resist. Besides, I wanted chocolate.

"Frank, we'd best go to the Three Broomsticks; it's much cheaper to gorge ourselves there than Honeydukes." But he pulled on unrelentingly, passing the cozy pub without a moments hesitation.

"Fine," I huffed, "But it's your money we're wasting."

"We won't be wasting any money . . . we won't be spending any money," he said softly, turning back to reveal a slightly creepy smile

"Frank, I refuse to rob any more old ladies to satisfy my chocolate needs!"

"Two things, Lily: One. We didn't rob that old lady back in Godric's Hollow. And Two. There are other ways to get things free than robbery."

"Are you a gigolo, then?"

"Cute Lily, cute."

"Well, then how do you do it?" I grumbled, perplexed and tired from all the being dragged about.

"You'll see."

And I did. Mere moments after I was dragged into Honeydukes, Frank was seized by a gaggle of plump, kindly clucking, women. They were pinching his cheeks, and tousling his hair, and (in the case of a ruddy-cheeked, particularly amorous looking woman) checking the elasticity of his bottom. I should probably just say arse. Bottom sounds so juvenile, but I don't know if I'm yet comfortable with acknowledging that my _**boyfriend**_ has an arse, or, of course, with the idea that I have a _**boyfriend**_. The point is, Frank had been seized, and I was at an utter loss what to do to aid him out of this strait.

Luckily, a rather more fearsome woman, who was not plump so much as gargantuan, burst from behind the shop's counter and extricated Frank.

"Mr. Longbottom," crowed the rather scary woman, "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing? Pulling all my workers from their duties, how do you expect us to get any work done? I'd of thought your mother would have taught you better."

"No, no, Eudora. . ." stuttered Frank. "I didn't mean to cause any problems. I just wanted to introduce my _**girlfriend **_Lily to my mother's closest friend." His undue emphasis of our new label was rather irksome, but I wasn't about to object under the toady eyes of the titanic Eudora.

"Hmmm. . ." murmured Eudora, her eyes clearly measuring my every defect. "Her hair is rather too red don't you think? I shouldn't be surprised if this one gives you rather a lot of trouble my dear Frank."

"Oh, she already has," guffawed my _**boyfriend**_. . . shudder. I would have objected, but I was somewhat distracted by a new and delicious smell that wafted in from backroom door. Chocolate cake to be sure. Legitimate chocolate cake, bitter and biting. . . ye gads I wanted some. While I was zoning out, the conversation had clearly progressed beyond my defects and all other such pleasantries. Now Eudora was quizzing Frank about his mother. Ye gads. . . wouldn't they just hurry up and let me get to the cake.

"So then Frank," said Eudora. "What are you really doing here? I know your scoundrel ways well enough to know that you'd hardly drag your pretty little _**girlfriend **_to meet an old biddy like me without some selfish motivation. What are you trying to rob me of now?" Wait. . . now this lady liked me? I must have really zoned out. . . The terrifying woman was now somewhat nice, and she had cake. I must befriend her.

"Frank brought me here so that we could buy some of that delicious smelling cake you have in the backroom. I'm rather fond of truly chocolate cake, and Frank says the cake here is unmatched."

Eudora beamed at me. Like all true artists, a compliment to her work was also the highest flattery of herself. "No, no, no, Frank," chortled Eudora. "I'm happy about the blatant flattery you and your lady friend are heaping upon me, but I will not stand for any son of Augusta Longbottom's to spend a single knut at my establishment. Come into the back room. You can have some of the cake that Dolly and I just whipped up for our other guests."

As Eudora led us into the back of the shop, Frank bent over and whispered "I told you I could manage to get us gorged without selling my body. Good lying by the way."

I blushed. "I'm sorry. The smell just started to make me rather desperate. I didn't mean to be a minx."

"Too right you're a minx. Dragging me all around the most unromantic sights in town. You really know how to drive a bloke up the wall. I was pondering jumping you by the time we got to that bookstore." He bent his head down and started doing something rather odd to my neck/collar area. I little bit of nipping, a touch of suckling, and heaps of inappropriateness.

"Frank, really?" I moaned, trying to stay quiet enough to avoid Eudora's gaze. "Is this the time? Frank, remember what I said about taking it slow? Frank stop."

There were people around! Eudora for one! And all the other plump biddies! And James Potter and Emmeline's messy haired kid sister! And, and—Wait, what? As soon as I saw Potter and Maggie, I wrenched my neck from Frank's lips, causing a sound somewhat like drain being unclogged. Drat, drat, drat. If they weren't looking before they looked after hearing that. Seated at a table bearing the dreamed of salivatingly irresistible cake, Potter was wearing a rather smarmy grin upon his face. What must he think of me? Acting a trollop in the back room of Honeydukes.

Frank ran over to shake Potter's hand as soon as he saw him. He didn't seem at all ruffled about having just made a spectacle of ourselves. I wish I had such confidence. No, strike that. I wish that Frank was less confident so that I stopped having these sorts of troubles.

"What are you and the little Vance girl doing here, James?" grinned Frank.

"It's Maggie," mumbled Maggie, but she was ignored. I felt for her. Stupid men. Ignoring our needs.

"You aren't the only one who has learned to take advantage Eudora's kindness," said Potter. "Remember that my mum was probably the best cook that Honeydukes ever had. Now that she's retired, Eudora is always trying to worm her secret recipes out of me through free food."

"Hush, you snot –nosed brat," clucked Eudora. "It's because I'm so fond of you dear mother that I put up with you at all. I would never go stealing her recipes." Then, with a declaration of impending sandwiches, Eudora bustled out of the room. Frank and I slid into the remaining chairs at the table. I avoided looking at Potter by staring at the cake. Why were there no plates laid out. Would it be incredibly tasteless to just stick a hand in and begin the gorging process? Yeah, probably.

"So," asked Frank. "When did you start dating little Vance here?"

"Oh, we're not really. . ." He passed a look with Maggie, then: "only a few weeks. We're sort of keeping it quiet for now. You know, we'd like to avoid excessive gossip."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," chuckled Frank. "Though it's certainly too late for me and Lily to do that." Yeah, because of his wonky sex-drive. Well, at least we had stopped _wrestling _upon the arm chairs.

"It seems like you and Lily just can't manage to keep your hands off eachother," said Maggie. "If you like James and I could leave. We aren't really on much of a date. We just came here for a nice break after quidditch practice."

"No, no! There's no need to do that! None at all!" My squeak was perchance a mite too heartfelt. Potter's grin gained a touch more smarm and both Maggie and Frank looked a bit irked. Thankfully, the sandwiches came in right then and so the conversation devolved into banal talk between bites: _Mmmmm. . . good sandwiches. . .yes, I like the sauce. . . free food is nice. . . yes. . . indeed._

After we'd nicely devoured all but the crumbs, Maggie declared her need to use the loo, a need that Frank seconded. I was considering going too just so I wouldn't be left alone with Potter, but I wasn't about to abandon the cake. Who knows what horrible things Potter could do to it while we innocently dealt with our bodily needs? Thus, Potter and I were left alone together. And he was still smirking in that rather smarmy manner.

After a few moments of silence, I couldn't handle it any more. "Could you please wipe that smirk off your face, Potter?"

"Am I smirking? I hadn't realized."

The git. Of course he knew he was smirking. He had been smirking the whole bloody time. "If this is about me and Frank's little incident earlier, then you should know that that was not my fault."

"What incident?" he grinned.

"You know what incident. The whole Frank feeling the need to devour my neck incident."

"Oh that. Did you know you have a small hickey, by the way? Of course, he didn't get much time, so it's very minor, but I imagine if Marlene notices you will be heckled rather badly."

"What?!" I yelped, attempting to look at my neck and failing rather badly. A hickey! A hickey! I'd never had one of those before. It seemed that celibate Lily was now officially gone. Well, actually, now that I think about it, Frank and I might need to go a few steps further before she's technically dead. . . considering the actual definition of celibate. Ewww. . . never mind. Kinky thoughts gone.

"You-you don't need to grin, Potter," I sighed. "I'm already aware that I'm acting like an idiot and that it must seem a great joke for Lily Evans, former champion prude, to make such a spectacle of herself, but really, you can't have expected me to stay celibate Lily forever."

At this, Potter started to snort in a rather unbecoming way. "Hey stop that!" I squeaked. "I was being serious. You don't need to be a git about it."

"I'm not trying to be a git," choked Potter between snorts. "It's just that you just called yourself celibate Lily."

"So?"

"My friends and I used to call you celibate Lily. When we heard the rumors about you and Frank we—well, specifically I—bemoaned the loss of good old celibate Lily. Your virtue was one of Hogwarts' seemingly best-protected treasures. But. . . I guess sixth year girls are inevitably horny minxes."

"I am not a horny minx!" I shrieked, attempting to mimic Petunia's most venomous tone. "I am still very virtuous. I'm the queen of virtue. I'm a virtue whore!"

"How does one go about being a virtue whore?" said Potter. "Do you perchance play around with other people's virtues, and if so doesn't that make you somewhat un-virtuous and by extension your whole statement nonsense. Your head must still be a little fuzzy from all that necking."

Looking back on it now, our fight was rather amusing and completely illogical. If it had been anyone else I would probably just have laughed it off and apologized for being so stupid, but this was Potter. Potter who has oftentimes been rather like my nemesis, especially last year when I was a much more diligent prefect and he was a much more dedicated prankster. Speaking of which, I wonder why he's laid off that so much recently. I can't recall the last time we had a good, amusing prank. Anyway, the point is, Potter riles me up into an irrational frenzy very easily. Thus, I continued on with our stupid fight.

" One. I was not necking. And two. How does it logically follow that necking would make my head fuzzy? You're the one who's being a daft wanker. What gives you the right to judge my behavior? I can snog Frank as much or as little as I bloody well like."

"Fine," sneered Potter. "Feel free to snog Frank. Snog him all you want. Just remember that he's somewhat of a decent fellow, and if you are insincere in your snogging then it means that you're messing with his feelings, and the feelings of those connected to him, and by extension acting just like a horny minx!"

Crap, crap, crap. He cut right to the heart of the issue there. Why does Potter have to be so shockingly insightful lately? Is dating someone when you're not yet sure how you feel about him really that disingenuous? I'm not trying to string him along. I'm trying to figure out whether I actually like him. My insecurities coupled with my current very riled state and a touch of self-loathing all converged to make me do something rather stupid.

Yup. . . I wasted another perfectly good cake. I stuck my hand in, just as I'd been contemplating earlier, and smashed the cake into his face. But, rather unlike Frank before him, James—no Potter, would not take that lying down. He proceeded to stick his hand in the cake and throw some at me. Since he's a stupid, bloody chaser his aim was superb and he hit my face with a juicy smack. Need I continue? I imagine you can guess what followed. Neither of us would give up until the whole cake was gone. Well. . . not gone, just relocated to our bodies and a good deal of the surrounding wall space.

"Crap, crap, crap," I moaned. "We just made such a mess. Eudora is going to be so angry. And what are Maggie and Frank going to think? And-and-and, I really wanted some of that cake!"

Potter, grinning very stupidly and might I add inappropriately (did he not get what just happened to us), replied "You can have some if you want, just grab it off your forehead."

"It won't be the same. I can't revel in the experience of eating the mush that was once a divine chocolate cake."

"You know," said Potter. "Eudora's cake is good, but I wouldn't say it's divine. The cake recipe that she's always trying to get from my mom. . . now that's divine. I'll get you a slice of that to make up for this."

"Shut up," I huffed. "I don't need your pity cake. Why did you have to be such a git, Potter? And just when I thought we we're finally starting to get along a little better."

"What?" Potter looked bamboozled but really pleased. During our fight his glasses must have gotten knocked off, and the chocolate around his eyes really set them off nicely. I recalled Frank's cake covered face and the mad, banshee laughter that had caused. Funny that Potter somehow managed to pull off the look. But I guess that if you're cocky enough you can pull off any look.

"Wait, what?" said Potter. "You think that we've started to become friends lately?"

"I wouldn't take it that far. I was just saying that we had been getting along somewhat decently lately, like in Arithmancy."

"I thought we got along somewhat decently lately too," said Potter enthusiastically. "I'm so glad that you agree with me."

"I did agree with you, idiot," I hissed. "But then this happened and now I'm thinking that whenever we get together we end up devolving into immature, petty, pre-teen behavior."

"But it was fun. Wasn't it fun, Lily?" He was looking at me in this earnest puppy dog fashion. And what was I to say? Of course it was fun, but that's not the point. Destruction is fun while it's happening, but what about afterwards? What about the consequences?

"Will you just help me clean up this mess," I sighed.

Somewhat deflated, Potter drew his wand to help with the clean up. We'd managed to vanish the cake from all the walls and floors by the time Frank and Maggie returned. Unfortunately, we'd forgotten to do anything about our clothes and faces and hair. . . Frank was looking earnestly puzzled and Maggie was looking at me with this wearied somewhat irritated look. I panicked a moment about how to explain, but Potter saved us:

"I accidentally blew up the cake."

"What? How do you accidentally do that?" asked Frank.

"Well, I was showing Lily a joke firework, and then I accidentally set it off and the cake exploded, which is really a pity because Lily was really looking forward to that cake. Isn't that right Lily?" He gave me a please go along with this look. It was somewhat implausible that I'd want to see his joke firework, especially because it was bound to be used against innocent bystanders like Johnny Dawlish in some despicable fashion, but I couldn't see how else I'd explain, other than. . . I suppose. . . telling the truth, but I somehow felt that that wouldn't go down too well right now. So, with minor guilt, I affirmed James'—Potter's statement.

"Yeah, he was just being an overeager idiot with the firework, and so destroyed a great cake."

"Don't be too harsh with him, Lily," smiled Frank. "Besides I'm so full of sandwich that I wasn't really feeling up to the cake. It's fine."

Maggie, on the other hand, didn't look like she bought our story for one second. Beneath all that, ever-mussed, hair she has quite piercing eyes, and I was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable until Frank chirped: "Let's go then, Lily. I'll get you a butterbeer to make up for the cake." Ha. Like a butterbeer could ever compare.

Maggie and Potter exited with as, and right as we were about to part James—Potter (Why do I keep doing that? Then again, what's wrong with calling his James? We're at least somewhat amiable acquaintances now. . . at least sometimes. . . I guess) whispered, _Look, _and then pointed to the front of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. Holding hands and smiling at every passing sunbeam, sat Professor Briggs and Professor Vector. So, I guess James had been right in his guesses. _I'm glad, _I murmured back. _All the happiness of a perfect year. . ._ he muttered, and the wind carried it away even as he said it. Then, he strolled away with Maggie, and I strolled away with Frank.

Somehow, this image haunts me. If their relationship is doomed to fail how can just a year be worth it? Wouldn't it be better if they never had that time at all rather than suffer the pain? I want them to have many long, happy years. I hope that even when Briggs leaves that Vector and he make it through. Love deserves years. Love deserves forever, but I don't even know if I believe in forever. Argh! Stupid Potter inducing all this anxiety.

But then again, I guess about one thing he's right. I did have fun today.

Love,  
Lily

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Thanks for reading. And I shall now beg for reviews. . . ummm. . . ahh. . . please. . . Please!


	14. Of Choices

**Author's Note: It's been a long time since I updated. But the non-activity of summer finally got to me. I'll probably churn out a few more of these as I'm now motivated. Plus, I mapped out the entire story so no block, just a matter of slogging it through. With encouragement it might even go quickly.**

**Enjoy,**

**Droopy Breeches.**

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* * *

Charms

October 25th

**What about making this the new note passing class?**

It's all rather pointless don't you think?

**Whoa there, James, aren't you a little bit young for this type of existential crisis?**

I'm not having an existential crisis; I just think that writing in a class where we are free to talk is actually a means of impeding our communication skills.

_Good use of the word existential though Sirius. That's at least a 5 knut vocabulary word. _

**See, James isn't the only one who can sprinkle his notes with show-off, nerd words. **

Is it really that wrong to try and better myself? If I'd know that my actions would elicit this type of misanthropic response I'd have curtailed my cascade of erudite colloquiums earlier.

**I hate you.**

_James, you misused at least three words in that sentence. Well, maybe not completely misused, but the connotation is wrong. For one thing, Sirius isn't a misanthrope, that would imply that he hates people in general, which he doesn't. He just hates you . . . when you use juvenile, show-off, nerd words._

Why is everyone turning against me? Fine. Whatever. I don't need you. I have Peter. Right? Right Peter?

_**Sure. Whatever. Though I actually get pretty annoyed with your unending, juvenile, show-off, nerd words too. **_

How very cold of you. Well fine then. I'll go hang out with my newest somewhat cordial acquaintance Lily. I bet she'll treat me better than you backstabbers.

_I very much doubt that. If I recall correctly, her view of "somewhat cordial acquaintances" involves grinding your face into chocolate cake._

But it was high quality chocolate cake!

**Always the optimist, aren't you.**

I just prefer to view the world as a great big opportunity just waiting to be seized. So now, I'm going to stroll right up to miss Lily and—

**Seize her? Drag her into yon broom closet? Murmur erudite nothings into each other's nerdy ears?**

Hey, hey! Let me finish writing my note before you interrupt. I was going to say have a polite conversation with her as befits somewhat cordial acquaintances.

**Wow, your life sounds boring. **

_If I may remind you, James, you have a girlfriend. Should you really be entering into polite conversations with past paramours at this time?_

Maggie doesn't mind . . . I think. Do you guys think she minds?

**She's a woman isn't she?**

So?

_**Women always mind. **_

**How would you know, Wormtail? When was the last time you dated a woman?**

_**Hey, I date! And the way you say that makes it sound like I've been dating people other than women, which I have not!**_

_Sirius, stop harassing Peter. And, yes, I think that Peter is right. James, women tend to mind when they feel neglected. _

But I'm not neglecting her! I'm paying attention to both Lily and Maggie.

_**So then you're two-timing Maggie?**_

I'm not two-timing her! Can't a guy have an awesome, though highly eccentric, girlfriend and a cordial acquaintance, who he just might still harbor some lingering feelings for?

_No._

_**No.**_

**Whatever floats your boat, mate. **

See, Sirius supports me.

_So, as long as you have the support of Sirius your actions are no longer morally reprehensible?_

Sirius you don't think I'm being morally reprehensible, do you?

**No, you're just trying to sort through the mire of committed relationships. I feel for you, man. I will do my best to support you in this messy situation.**

See? Sirius supports me.

_Then you are both morally reprehensible._

Says the man who shattered the heart of Ms. McDonald for no adequately justified reason.

_My reason was completely justified. I was protecting her. Now, hopefully, she'll move on and bestow her affections on someone who could actually give her a happy life. _

That's quite noble sounding, but somehow it makes me sad.

**Yeah, me too. I want Moony to have happiness. He deserves to settle down into a nice cottage with his wife and puppies.**

_If by puppies you mean my future offspring then I am not amused. _

Come on Moony, girls are nice. You can't avoid them forever.

_I will live my life the way I see fit. It is not up to you or Sirius to dictate my decisions. _

Alright, alright. Backing off.

**Hmmm . . . so, is it just me or is there very little fun in note passing when the threat of discovery is nonexistent?**

We had fun passing notes in History of Magic, and there wasn't much of a threat there.

**That was different. We had to be quiet in that class, and there was a threat of sorts. Binns is a ghost, that automatically endows him with a touch of menace. This is just, just . . . it's all rather pointless. **

It's all right, mate. We'll find a good note taking class. We just have to keep trying. There's still Defense and Herbology left.

**I wish I'd gotten a better mark in Arithmancy, that would be an ideal note taking class.**

It would be now, but it'll be just as nasty as Transfiguration once Briggs and Vector break up.

**What?**

_Yes, I'd like to second Sirius' puzzlement._

_**Me too.**_

Ummm. . . never mind. It's no big deal. It's just this sort of theory/inside joke that Lily and I have.

**Oh, so you have inside jokes with other people now. I've decided to shun you. **

Don't be like that Sirius. I still love you best.

_You and Lily have an inside joke now? I'm torn between commending your progress and stating again what would Maggie think?_

Everyone needs to stop fretting about this. Maggie and I are great. I'm not about to ditch Maggie. For one thing, that would be a really gitish thing to do, and also. . . I think I'm really starting to like Maggie. She's just really easy to spend time with.

**And easy on the eyes. **

Yes that too. And she's really good at quidditch, plus she's rather funny. And sometimes, when it doesn't freak me out, I find her forward ways rather refreshing. It's nice that I always know where I stand with her, because it's lousy when girls string you along and you know declare you a rather cordial bloke one moment then throw cake at you the next.

**But is Maggie a good snog?**

What? I'm not going into this. I don't see how this is any of your business.

_**Have you two not even snogged yet? **_

I'm not talking about this right now.

**Good thing that we're not talking right now then isn't it. Maybe there are perks to writing notes in this class. **

Well, I'm not writing about it either.

_It's been more than a month James. Perhaps your reluctance to engage in any type of physical intimacy is contributing to Maggie's jealousy. _

How does that follow?

**Women need constant reassurance mate. And since you are by no means a smooth speaker you should get your lips otherwise engaged. **

How dare you insult my wordsmithery! Besides you all acknowledge my large vocabulary.

**Yes, James. But women like compliments that don't require a jaunt to the OED.**

_**The what?**_

_Oxford English Dictionary, but how do you know that Sirius?_

**Oh, so now James is the only one allowed to show off. My OWLs were just as good as his. **

Except for Divination . . . in which I destroyed you.

**By cheating! **

I didn't cheat.

**Yes you did. I know for a fact that you lied to your examiner. Some bull about him testing your future offspring. **

Hey! You lied too. I just lied better.

**Yeah, well I kiss better! In fact, since you seem unable to muster up even a single snog, I doubt you'll have any future offspring. **

Fine, how about you just ask Maggie about my kissing ability. She seemed rather satisfied.

_Oh, so you have then? When was this?_

_**But I thought you two were taking it slow.**_

Yeah, that's what I thought too, but about a week ago she told me to kiss her . . . and so I did.

_Very obliging of you. _

_**Told you to kiss her? That's a little odd. **_

The whole thing was a little odd . . . but not unpleasantly so.

**Ooooh do tell. **

Hark, did I just hear Flitwick dismiss class. Got to go.

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* * *

From the Journal of Prefect Regulus Arcturus Black

October 31, 1976

I did something I shouldn't have. But it wasn't just me. I don't think I would've if not for—only it was so distasteful. And Sirius' words won't get out of my head, "make sure that whatever you do is your own choice." So I choose . . . I only hope I won't come to regret it. I suppose cryptic musings mean nothing without the reasoning behind them. Fine.

It's Halloween, a holiday I've never particularly cared for. Costumes, candy, and shrieking first years. It's impossible to find a quiet corner for studying. That, and my friends insist on pulling me into their yearly antics. It's always something so stupid, a few pranks and hexes, all to work up a good holiday terror. Only this year they wanted to take it further.

After dinner Nott pulled me aside. "Come on Regulus, Mulciber's prepared a real treat for us."

"What is it? I'm not in the mood for hexing Dawlish. I'd much rather go back to the dormitory."

"Oh it's nothing so childish," said Nott, a smirk drawing the skin tight over the sharp bones of his face. "All of our _closest friends _are gathered for some fun."

By that he could only mean them, Bella's former crew, the wanna-be-deatheaters. Or, I suppose, considering what Bella told my mother, they're soon-to-be deatheaters, recruiting from within Hogwarts. Nott frequently tries to push us together with them. Previously, they hadn't paid us much mind. But since Bella left things have changed. They look at me differently. I worry that they may see me as her successor, a task I'm certainly not up to. I bet Sirius would be excellent at it, except for his pointless rebellious streak. Well, not pointless, but certainly dangerous . . . oh never mind.

Despite Nott's desires and the soon-to-be's new attitude I don't particularly want to become part of their group, leader or not. It's not so much a matter of objecting to their behavior as not wanting to go through the hassle. Being a deatheater seems to require all sorts of distasteful effort. I'd much rather stay on my own.

I was right, of course. Waiting for us in one of the dungeon corridors by the Slytherin common room was Mulciber, Avery, and Travers. Not nearly all of our _closest _friends, but some of the worst.

"Good job Nott," said Mulciber. "You've brought our little guest of honor to his special Hallows treat."

Odd that they were singling me out, but best to play along. Safest too. "I don't see any special treat. Cruel of you to get my hopes up."

Travers snickered behind Mulciber, a rather high-pitched unpleasant sound. "What time is it Mulciber?" he asked.

"About ten I'd say."

"Well then," said Avery. "the _treat_ will be arriving any minute."

"What do you—" I stopped mid way, choking back my words, seeing the answer. At the other end of the corridor stood a girl, tiny and pale a white nightgown patterned with faded daisies hanging loosely on her shoulders. She looked horribly out of place in the dungeon, like a some perverse ghost. I couldn't imagine what brought her here until I saw her eyes, glazed over, the tell-tale sign of a strong imperious curse.

"Do you like it?" said Mulciber. He twitched his wand and the girl began to walk slowly toward us. So he was the controller. That made sense, Bella said he had a gift for manipulation. "I figured you, in particular, would appreciate my choice," he continued.

I must admit at the time I didn't know the girl's name. But I'd instantly recognized her. A sixth year Gryffindor and better yet, a mudblood. She was always tailing Lily Evans. But she was only Evans' weaker shadow, a much more vulnerable target. But I knew this wasn't just about mudblood baiting. This was a direct attack at the marauders . . . at my brother. This girl was their friend and, if the rumors were to be believed, she was mooning after the half-breed Remus. A perfect target really. Only, I felt uneasy. We were too exposed in this corridor. And why the sudden change in tone? An attack within Hogwarts? Under Dumbledore's nose? Did they plan to torture her to please me? Then why did it feel like such a test? I knew I must tread cautiously.

"Yes," I said, smiling. "A perfect choice. Only, what are you planning on doing with her?"

"That my dear Regulus is up to you," said Mulciber. "She is after all your _treat_." With a flick of his wand he directed the girl in front of me, then had her collapse at my feet.

"Ah, right."

"I have some suggestions that might interest you," said Avery, twirling his wand slowly.

I was sure they were most unpleasant. Torture and whatever else struck their fancy. They were after all teenage boys, and imperiused girls made for all sorts of fun. I didn't want any of it. I've let them play their games before. We Slytherin prefects tend to turn a blind eye to them; only why did they have to drag me into it? I couldn't think of any way to squirm out of this with both my reputation and dignity intact. So I stalled.

"Shouldn't we move to somewhere less exposed first? This corridor is common use for traveling to the great hall."

"At this time of night?" sneered Mulciber. "Hardly, only Slytherins down here. And our housemates know better than to interfere with teaching a bit of mudblood filth her proper place."

"You're not considering other dangers," I said. "There are prefect patrols coming."

That seemed to shake them up a bit more. Certainly they could take down a few prefects, but covering their tracks would get near impossible. Perhaps the fools had finally remembered that we were still inside Hogwarts.

"Finding another place is such a bother," said Avery. "There aren't any spare rooms here. We'd have to drag her half way across the castle."

"And we could hardly avoid being caught with five people and one mudblood," said Mulciber. The sneer he'd kept up so well was finally slipping, revealing the fury beneath. To him it wasn't just about the pleasure of the act. Mulciber was fervent in his devotion to the Dark Lord. In his mind, even failing in this let down his master.

But after a few moments his sneer returned directed at me. "Only . . . you're a prefect Regulus. You know their schedules. When will our little game be disturbed?"

"If it's ten they should be here any moment now." I was lucky that it was true. I knew better than to lie to Mulciber when he could so easily confirm the truth with his prefect friends. I only hoped he didn't ask more.

"Shouldn't we go then," asked Nott, his eyes darting up and down the corridor. "We can get this mudblood later, somewhere out of Hogwarts. Somewhere safer. We'll have our fun then."

"No," growled Mulciber. "We've held back for too long already. Being good little boys, crushed under Dumbledore's thumb. We need to prove ourselves to the Dark Lord!"

"From what I've heard from Bella what the Dark Lord actually wanted from you was to covertly recruit from within Hogwarts. What you're doing risks expulsion and even Azkaban. You're actually defying the Dark Lord, endangering the mission through exposure." I was risking Mulciber's easy temper hoping to make them see the danger and end this as soon as possible, before the prefects got here and ruined my excuse. Or before Mulciber saw through it.

Mulciber advanced towards me wand pointed. "Who are you Black, to tell me how to best serve the Dark Lord! What do you know of his intentions? What do you know of his power? Have you ever been in his presence? Have you ever even seen his mark gleaming in the sky? Don't think that just because we're being kind to you that you're special. Bellatrix was special. You, you're not fit to lick blood off of her boots—"

"Enough Mulciber!" said Travers. "The boy makes a valid point. We do have one hope though. Black, do you know who is patrolling these corridors today?"

So they'd guessed it. I thought of lying, saying I didn't remember, but I'd pushed their good humor too far already.

"Let me see if I can—Ah yes, you'll be pleased." I smiled and tried to hide my irritation. "It should be Severus and Narcissa."

"If you knew this then why did you put us through—"

"Quiet Mulciber," said Travers. "Regulus simply forgot, didn't you boy?"

"Yes, that's all." I put on my most penitent expression and sank into the wall hoping to appear weak and not worth troubling over.

"And his remembering at this time is most fortunate," continued Travers, "since we now have one more to add to our company."

As I'd predicted, Severus had arrived. He glanced at the girl crumpled before me and at me, wand trembling in my hand. If his cool eyes found the scene before him strange they didn't betray it.

"Se-Severus," I stuttered, "Where's Narcissa?"

"She's occupied with head business," said Severus.

"Doubtful," said Avery, laughing. "She's probably just slacking off, skiving patrol to go snog some poor lower year, caught in her claws."

"Think what you'd like," said Severus. " But remember that Narcissa has high connections and neither her sister or fiancé would be pleased with such talk."

"Yes, yes," said Travers. "Since you don't seem to be burdened by our head girl, why don't you join us Severus?"

"Alas, I'm busy tonight," said Severus. "In fact I'm not on patrol right now but on an errand for our dear heads."

"Always the faithful servant, aye Severus," said Mulciber. "Doesn't the playacting ever get tiring?"

"I suppose, but the value of maintaining appearances should never be underestimated. Now," said Severus, turning to face me, "come along with me Regulus."

"What?" I said, jumping up from the wall.

"As you would know if you attended your prefect meetings," said Severus, "Dumbledore considers Halloween a day in which extra security is needed. All prefects even ones without previously assigned duty were to report to our heads for assignment. I was sent to get the Slytherin slackers. So come on Regulus." As he finished he turned and began walking away.

I was gaping. Severus lied so smoothly. I, of course, have never missed a prefect meeting, so I would have known and used this excuse before had it been to hand.

I composed myself quickly and stepped to follow him.

"Wait a minute," said Mulciber, his temper flaring. "We're in the middle of something, Snape. Regulus was just about to show us his mettle."

Snape turned, looking exasperated. "I would leave him to this entertainment if it was only Narcissa waiting for him, but our headboy and a number of other students who might not look so kindly toward your activities are also waiting. If you'd like to avoid suspicion I have to take him."

"We understand," said Travers.

"No we don't!" yelled Mulciber. "I'm not letting the boy slip out of this so easily. What sort of loyalty is this Severus? Placing _school duties _above serving your master!"

"Calm down, Mulciber," said Travers, his smile growing. "Regulus and Snape must be on their way but before Regulus leaves he will start off our fun." He stepped backward leaving the space open between me and the fallen girl. "And remember, Regulus, if you can't think of anything Avery has many valuable suggestions."

Mulciber's mood had turned again. Pleased with his friend's suggestions he grinned, revived the girl, and removed the imperius curse. "She's all ready for you, Black. She'll respond fully to whatever you're thinking of."

"Oh, good," I said. I looked towards Severus, but this time he didn't offer an escape, just waited for me to act.

Beneath my feet the girl drew herself to a sitting position. Still bleary, she was only gradually growing aware of her surroundings, and as she did her eyes grew wide. She began to tremble.

"Well," I said, putting on my best arrogant persona, "since we're short on time and I'd rather not taint myself through touching the mudblood," Travers snickered again, "I'll just giver her a classic taste of pain." I held my hand forward to use the Cruciatus but hesitated. She was crying and softly pleading, saying a name that froze me.

"Sirius? What's going on? Please, Sirius, help me."

So we looked that much alike. The girl was confused. Horribly confused.

"Quiet you mudblood bitch," I said. "I'm not Sirius!"

"Then you-you must be his brother," she gasped. "Please get him. Please help me."

"Sorry," I said, coldly, "but we don't really get on." Then, after a pause in which she started sobbing, I muttered, "Crucio!"

The girl twitched and flopped, screaming while Mulciber and Avery laughed. I knew my curse wasn't the strongest. I'm not experienced with the Unforgivables and I lacked passion, but it was enough. A minute later I let it go and walked away with Severus avoiding looking at the girl . . . hoping she'd passed out.

"Good work boy!" called Mulciber. "We'll continue where you left off."

My mind was reeling. I walked quickly just to get away. After a few corridors Severus stopped me.

"I'm leaving now," he said. "I have real prefect duty to complete."

"Right. Thank you for helping me. I-I really couldn't stand that distasteful game."

"Then in future," he said. "I advise you to more carefully avoid such situations." He turned to walk away.

At the threat of being alone I was struck with an unexpected thought. _How far would they go with the girl? _Now that the treat of discovery was gone they could indulge their every sick whim. They had all night. As soon as I thought it I pulled back. Why should I care about the girl? I'd gotten out of that sticky situation and so there was really no need to bother anymore. Yes, Sirius would be upset, but-but so what? Must I always bother myself for him? He'd abandoned me, gotten me in trouble for sending him his possessions, given me nothing but trouble since I was a kid. He was an awful brother really. But . . .

"So, how far do you think they'll go with that girl?" I tried to keep my tone conversational.

"Her name is Mary Macdonald. She has two siblings and her parents run a Greengrocers in Godric's Hollow."

"What?" What kind of response was that?

He just ignored my question and continued, "Mary was attacked by Mulciber once before near the end of her fifth year. He wasn't quite so fanatical back then, so it was just for fun, but he was angry that she got off so easily then, and he isn't the forgetful type."

"What are you saying?"

Severus turned to me, displaying the first emotion on his face I'd seen all night, except that I couldn't figure out what emotion it was. Why should he care about Macdonald? "I'm saying that I hope that that fool Mulciber knows his limits and doesn't do something foolish like kill her."

"Would he really?" I said. "Should we do something? Get someone?" It was a foolish question. We couldn't just run to the teachers. I didn't want them expelled, and they'd surely know who revealed them.

"I think," said Severus with deliberate emphasis, "that I'll head back to help our friends, to keep a lookout for anyone that might stumble across them in such an obvious place."

"What? But what about your prefect duties?"

"No, no. You'll have to do the prefect rounds since I'll be busy."

Nothing he said made sense. One second he seemed to feel sympathy for Macdonald and the next he was going to help with her torture?

"I'd recommend," he continued, "starting your rounds at the kitchens. I think I heard some _troublemakers_ in there when I passed it earlier. Go talk to them. Get them moving."

The way he was stressing that word . . . _troublemakers_ . . . did he mean?

"Also, you'd best hurry if you want to catch them before it's too late." With that he turned and strolled quickly away.

I wasn't sure—I only suspected—but I ran, dashing to the kitchens as quickly as I could. If Severus gave them warning, if they ran away—it was too good. The girl would be alright . . . or at least survive.

Several minutes later, my side splitting, I tickled the damn pear and burst into the kitchen. It was as I suspected. Sirius . . . the others too, but in the center of them him, my brother, laughing, surrounded by food . . . and friends.

I envy him.

"Reggie? What are you doing? Are you okay?" It was him. He was crouched by me. I'd fallen on the floor. He was by me. It had been so long.

"Sirius, you need to go and get her."

"Who? Reg, what's going on? Have you been attacked?"

"Mary Macdonald, she's by the Slytherin common room. She's not going to be okay if you don't go."

"She's been attacked?" It was Potter that time, edging closer, listening in. "Who was it?"

I couldn't tell, of course.

"Sirius," I said, "just go. Will you find her? Do I need to take you?"

"Don't worry we have our ways. You stay here. I'll go. Wait for me."

He jumped up saying things to his friends that I didn't bother to listen too. I was too tired. Too confused.

Before he left I said, "I wasn't involved in this. This didn't happen. Remember that."

"I will. You won't get in trouble only . . ." he paused. "Thank you brother." And he left.

I didn't wait, just recovered my strength and dragged myself back to the common room, taking a route that avoided _that _corridor.

It's troubling. I can't figure out what made me do it. I was just trying to protect myself, but then . . . did I do it for that girl, that mudblood? Because of Severus, because of his strange behavior? Or was it for Sirius?

Whatever the reason, it was a bad choice. I've put myself in danger. I won't be able to avoid them now. I've exposed myself.

Regulus Arcturus Black

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**A/N: This chapter marked a turning point both in the plot, which has grown a tad darker, and in the chapter titles! It was the only Of . . . that lacks a partner. Somehow it just felt appropriate. Anywho, I love reviews and they make me write. Also, I just really want your thoughts love it? Hate it? Have some silly suggestion? I'm open to it all.**

**Love,**

**D.B.**


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